Beyond the Darkness: The Early Years
by Orion Scorpio
Summary: AU. What if Sirius Black had Disapparated right after Pettigrew framed him, and proceeded to kidnap Harry from the Durselys? Harry grows up with Sirius while hiding from former Death Eaters, the Ministry AND the Order of the Phoenix!
1. Treason

**Beyond the Darkness: The Early Years**

**Author Name:** Orion Scorpio

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Summary:** AU. What if Sirius Black had Disapparated right after Pettigrew framed him, and proceeded to kidnap Harry from the Durselys? Harry grows up with Sirius while hiding from former Death Eaters, the Ministry AND the Order of the Phoenix!

**Author's Note:** I just want to try my hand at the 'Sirius raises Harry' plot. This story chronicles Harry's upbringing. He'll go to Hogwarts in the sequel (Beyond the Darkness: The Philosopher's Stone).

IIII

**Chapter 1: Treason**

**October 31, 1981**

"My Lord… the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper!"

Lord Voldemort, the greatest and most feared dark wizard in centuries, leaned forward in his throne-like chair and regarded the kneeling figure in front of him. Red eyes that stood in contrast to his unnaturally pale skin seemed to bore through the man's skull.

"You, Peter?" Voldemort said in a voice carved from ice. "Information provided from my other agents suggests that Sirius Black is their Secret-Keeper."

Pettigrew shuddered despite himself. His master seemed to radiate cold and darkness wherever he went, and rarely needed much of an excuse to torture someone into madness or death. Yet, he was also the most powerful wizard in the world; for a decade he had slaughtered every wizard and witch that dared oppose him, and then exterminated their families. _Everyone_ who fought him died. _Everyone_ who tried to resist him was killed. Pettigrew didn't want to die, and it was quite obvious who were winning; the Ministry of Magic were steadily falling back on all fronts, and Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix was slowly being wiped out. Fearing for his life, Pettigrew had accepted the Dark Mark and begun passing information to Voldemort. That had been two years ago.

"T-they switched, m-my Lord," Pettigrew said, hating the stuttering but unable to do anything about it. Merely being in the same room as the man he had sworn his soul to was enough to turn his knees into jelly. "B-Black thought he was too obvious a choice. By transferring the Fidelius Charm to m-me he could act as a decoy."

Pettigrew kept his head bowed and stared fixedly at the ground. Drops of sweat fell from his face to land on the stone floor, creating dark patches. Out of the corners of his vision he could see dark shapes standing to the left and right; members of the Dark Lord's inner circle, all with their faces hidden behind Death Eater masks. None of them had moved at all since he was granted audience with his master.

Voldemort rubbed his chin with a ghastly white hand. "Yes… yes, of course." Pettigrew risked a glance and saw a thin smile beginning to spread across the man's features. "After all, who would suspect a wizard with such… limited talents like you?"

Pettigrew was so relieved over seeing that his news were well received that he swallowed the insult without problems. He had already been at the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse more than once, and had no wish to repeat the experience.

Voldemort abruptly rose, tall and imposing. "Tell me where they are," he demanded. "Tell me where they are, this couple that have eluded my grasp for far too long."

For the tiniest fraction of a second Pettigrew hesitated. Originally he had thought he could play both sides and openly declare for one of them as soon as they won. However, Voldemort had quickly dispelled that illusion. And yet, ever since the day he had accepted the Dark Mark Pettigrew had managed to fool himself into thinking that he hadn't done anything _really_ traitorous yet, he could still back out…

But fear seized his heart as he looked into bottomless pits of red ice that were the eyes of his master. "A-a village na-named G-Godric's Hollow in Devon," Pettigrew heard himself say. "N-no 6 Grafton Road."

There. He had said it. He had now condemned his childhood friend James, James' wife Lily, and their one year old son Harry to death. Pettigrew forced himself to breath normally. He couldn't become sentimental now; his own hide was at stake here!

Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. "Rise, Peter. You have served me well."

Pettigrew obeyed and scrambled back on his feet to stand meekly in front of his master.

"Shall I send out a death-squad, my Lord?" came the gruff voice of Macnair.

Voldemort considered for a moment. "No. I'll handle them myself," he said and produced a wand from the folds of his robes. "First I shall teach them a harsh lesson; that no one can escape from the Dark Lord." A twisted smile grew on his face, and the demented look in his eyes became, if possible, even more sinister. "And then I shall take care of this... _child_ that according to fate has the power to destroy me."

There were murmurs of agreement from those gathered as Voldemort caressed his wand with long, thin fingers. "Augustus, Rodolphus and Barty; you'll come with me. The rest of you shall wait here for my return," he ordered. And with that he disapparated. Augustus Rockwood, Rodolphus Lestrange and Barty Crouch jr. followed him not a second later.

Pettigrew sagged with relief as his master left, wiping away sweat with a quivering hand. _I'm sorry, James,_ he thought brokenly. _But the Dark Lord is winning everywhere; he has weapons I can't even comprehend – and I don't want to die!_

"Don't wet yourself," Bellatrix Lestrange said mockingly, and there were a few chuckles from the remaining Death Eaters present. Pettigrew shuffled his feet and didn't meet anyone's eyes.

III

To Muggle eyes No 6 Grafton Road didn't look any different from the other cottages in the village, and gave no outwardly signs that a witch and a wizard lived there with their son. To the trained eyes of Lord Voldemort, however, there was a weak mist of residual magic covering it; proof that those inside had been using spells and charms.

Voldemort smiled coldly. It looked like the little rat had been correct; this cottage was indeed the hiding place of a magical family.

With a few quick wand-movements he cast an assortment of Revealing and Exposing charms. A dozen different cobwebs of light appeared just inside the garden fence, completely enveloping the cottage. Voldemort nodded to himself; the Potters hadn't been taking any chances and had set up several wards in addition to the Fidelius Charm. Some prevented Apparation, others automatically traced portkey-signatures, and yet others made it impossible to floo to their fireplace even if it had been connected to the Floo Net.

But none of those wards could stop Lord Voldemort.

"Spread out and surround the house," Voldemort ordered the three followers he had brought along. His gruesome smile grew wider with anticipation as he walked straight through the wards. A distant chime sounded, coming from the cottage, and one of the curtains moved as someone peeked out of the window.

"Reducto!"

The curse blew the front door to splinters and Voldemort strode silently into the darkened living room, just in time to deflect a Blasting Curse from the raven-haired man charging down the stairs. Determination shone from the man's eyes, and his face was twisted in a snarl of hatred. But there was also fear in those eyes. James Potter knew without a doubt he was running toward his death, but did it anyway in an effort to buy his wife and son a little time.

_Gryffindor courage,_ Voldemort thought disdainfully. _How typical._

"Everbero maximus!" the dark wizard snapped, unleashing his own attack. Potter jumped over the banisters and landed deftly on the floor, avoiding the Bone-Crusher Curse which smashed part of the stairs instead.

"Incendio!"

Voldemort deflected the streams of fire with a deftly place shield charm, which hit a curtain on his left. The curtain immediately caught fire, lightning up the room with sinister, flickering light.

"Cremo poena!" Voldemort bellowed.

"Protego!" The jet of blue fire hit the invisible magical barrier Potter had conjured up and were reflected right back at Voldemort. The Dark Lord was forced to dodge out of the way lest his own curse take his head off. Instead the jet carved a two foot long scar through the wall.

_A powerful opponent,_ Voldemort thought, impressed despite himself. Potter's reactions were lightning-quick, and the counters almost perfectly placed. _If only he hadn't been so loyal to Dumbledore. What an asset he would have been!_

"Serpensortia!" A large serpent burst out of Voldemort's wand and landed at the floor in front of Potter's feet. Voldemort allowed himself a slight smile; he'd always been rather found of that hex. "_Attack Potter,_" he hissed in Parseltongue. "_Kill him!_"

The snake began slithering toward his enemy, hissing menacingly. Face tight with determination, Potter responded by transfiguring the sofa into a magnificent lion. Given life by Potter's emotions, the lion roared in rage and leapt at the Dark Lord.

"Reducto!" Voldemort snapped, blowing the transfigured sofa into bits. However, it have served its purpose as a distraction and allowed Potter the time to get rid of the snake with 'finite incantatum'.

"Most impressive," Voldemort said, regarding his anniversary. The air was thick with smoke. "But you know you can't win in the end."

Potter glared right back. "We will win, Voldemort," he said defiantly. "Whether I live or die here tonight, _we are going to win!_"

Voldemort laughed harshly. "Victory is all but mine, you fool! Crucio!"

Potter dodged the Cruciatus Curse, which hit the wall and left a dark scorch mark.

"Dissimulo!" Thick, black smoke flowed out of Potter's wand, spreading out across the room supernaturally quick and hiding him from sight.

"You can't hide from me with a simple Obscuration Spell, Potter!" Voldemort called, peering into the still rapidly growing dark cloud. Suddenly the cloud stopped growing and in that moment Voldemort quickly darted to the left, just as a pulse of golden light flew out and blew a gaping hole in the wall.

Voldemort smiled. Just as he had predicted, Potter had followed the sound of his voice. "Care to try again?" he mocked and darted to the right. A red jet of light burned through the air where his chest had been a heartbeat earlier, but also betraying the location of the caster within the cloud.

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted and was rewarded with a scream of agony from the midst of the cloud. _Ah, yes!_ He shuddered in dark ecstasy at the sound.

He held the curse for a few more moments, enjoying the screams from his enemy, before he reluctantly dropped it in order to dispel the cloud. As the mist lifted, the first thing he saw was Potter sitting up and pointing his wand at him.

"S-stupefy!" he gasped.

Voldemort blocked the stunner easily. _Impressive; he still have his wits with him,_ he thought. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted gleefully and took perverted pleasure in watching the surprise in Potter's face as the Killing Curse struck him in the chest.

The Dark Lord regarded the dead body of James Potter for a while, a sick smile still on his lips. After a few moments he gave himself a shake; as much pleasure as he took from killing, he still had a mission here tonight. Swiftly he made his way up to the second floor, avoiding the hole in the stairs his Bone-Crusher Curse had made.

The first room, the master bedroom, was empty. The door to the next room had been magically sealed, however. The Mudblood must have realized she was surrounded and had in desperation locked herself up with the brat in his bedroom. Not that it would save them in the end.

"Reducto!"

The curse smashed the door completely, sending splinters of wood inward like flying daggers. Voldemort stepped inside, and found Lily Potter trying to drag herself back to her feet and cover a cradle with her own body at the same time. She had obviously not been expecting the explosion and hadn't been able to raise a shield in time; several sharp splinters had been driven into her chest and midsection, and now red patches of blood were forming where they had penetrated her flesh. One of them had penetrated the palm of her right hand, and her wand was nowhere in sight.

Voldemort dismissed her as no longer a threat and turned his attention at his objective; the babe who were sitting in the cradle, staring curiously from his mother to him and back again, obviously not understanding what all the fuss was about. A moment later his view was blocked as the Mudblood finally managed to steady herself.

"Move aside," Voldemort commanded coldly.

"No!"

Voldemort blinked perplexed at the ashen-faced woman. What was _wrong _with these Potters?

"Step aside, you pathetic woman!" he snapped and levelled his wand at her.

The Mudblood staggered forward with one arm outstretched as if she was going to attack him physically, despite being grievously injured. "Not Harry, not Harry," she sobbed. "Please, not Harry!"

Voldemort battered aside her arm with his left. "Stand aside," he growled. Didn't she see she had lost? She should be saving herself, not risk her life for a brat! "You silly girl! Stand aside now."

"Please have mercy," she cried and tried to grab his wand. "He's just a baby! Take me instead!"

Mercy? She asked _him_ for _mercy?_ Oh, that was just too funny.

"Avada Kedavra!" he laughed. Green light filled the room, and Voldemort watched in sick pleasure as the Mudblood crumbled on the floor, horror still etched in her face.

Still chuckling he stepped over the body and over to the cradle. Little Harry Potter gazed up at him with green eyes, unable to comprehend what was going on.

"So you are the one who supposedly have the power to vanquish me?" Voldemort smirked. "You certainly don't look like it. However, I'm not going to take any chances. Good-bye. Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort never had time to react. The deadly green light shot out of his wand, hit the babe in his forehead - and did the impossible; it rebounded. Little Harry was knocked on his back with a wail from the blow, but the reflected jet of light struck Voldemort in the chest with tremendous force. The explosion of PAIN nearly tore his mind apart as he was thrown out of the bedroom and sent tumbling down the stairs. Voldemort welcomed the feeling of bones breaking with open arms, for it felt like a lover's caress compared to the terrible PAIN that ravaged his body.

"HEEEEELP MEEEE!" The inhuman scream forced itself out of his throat as PAIN beyond PAIN caused him to convulse on the floor. Blood boiled and bone splintered as the Killing Curse tried to tear the life out of someone whose experiments with immortality had partially succeeded. Voldemort were barely aware of his three minions coming running into the living room in response to their master's call.

"Master!" a pale-faced Rockwood exclaimed, staring in shock and fear at the dark wizard who was now leaking blood from every pore "Master, what-".

"H-Harry Potter!" Voldemort gasped through a red haze. His grasp on life were slipping. "_HARRY POTTEEEEEER!_" he howled in rage one last time before his body were blown into a billion fragments by one final, intense burst of green light. The shockwave from the magical explosion radiated outward with a thunderclap, destroying both wards and walls with equal ease. The three Death Eaters hastily threw up shield charms, and yet they screamed in pain as their skin was nearly flayed off their bodies.

Lestrange, Rockwood and Crouch did the only thing they could think of; they Disapparated before the ceiling came crashing down upon them.

A Dark Lord had met his end, and a legacy had begun.

III


	2. Rescue

**Chapter 2: Rescue**

With a small pop of displaced air, Severus Snape materialized in the Dark Lord's audience chamber, his mind cloaked in cold darkness like the Occlumency Master he was. He adjusted his mask as his eyes swept across the room. The Dark Lord's entire Inner Circle seemed to be present, but the Dark Lord himself weren't there. Most unusual; he wasn't in the habit of summoning people and then disappearing. Severus catalogued the thought away for later and turned to other tasks. With the Inner Circle here, there was a good possibility he'd manage to extract some valuable information with Legilimency that he could take back to Dumbledore and the Order.

Merely a year earlier, the thought of betraying the Dark Lord in such a manner would have been ridiculous in the extreme, but events had conspired against him. Last year, he had been enjoying a glass of firewhisky at a shady pub called Hog's Head when he had overheard a genuine prophecy being made.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…_

Naturally, _that_ had made him stop in his tracks. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen Dumbledore staring at a woman in shock, and Severus had tried to get closer, strolling unsteadily like a man who'd had too much to drink.

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

But trice-damned barkeeper hadn't been fooled, and had – quite literally – thrown him out of the pub. Like the obedient servant of the Dark Lord he had been, Severus had hurried to the Dark Lord's headquarters and told him everything. July came and went, and a little research revealed that there were two sets of parents that fit the description in the prophecy; the Longbottoms and – to Severus' utter horror – the Potters.

Potter had once saved the life of Severus, and – never mind the circumstances surrounding the deed – created a bond between them. Loathsome as the thought was, Severus now owed Potter and, by extension, Potter's son a life debt. A life debt was old and powerful magic, and it _had_ to be paid back. It was as unavoidable as an Unbreakable Vow.

Thus, Severus had betrayed his Lord and Master, and returned to the Light. To the loosing side. For a year now he had supplied Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix with information from the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, hoping it would keep his archenemy and his son safe.

Suddenly, he caught sight of someone who wasn't supposed to be there; had he not been a master of Occlumency, his eyes would have narrowed. As it was, he merely gave the masked figure a casual glance, although his mind was working intensely. He had been a member of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle long enough to recognize the members by their demeanour, but this one was unknown to him. The man (Severus was sure it was a man) stood half hidden in shadows with his shoulders hunched and face downcast, completely lacking the aura of confidence and ruthlessness of most long-time Death Eaters, or the mindless indifference of an Imperius-victim. Severus was just about to use his skills as a Legilimens to take a look at the man's surface thoughts when he was interrupted.

"Ah, Severus," Bellatrix Lestrange said lazily and sauntered over to him. "It's been a while. What brings you here?"

"Bella," Severus nodded in greeting. Even back when he had been a Death Eater for real, he had never liked the torture-happy Lestranges. Yet, there were rumours that she was a Legilimens herself, so she gave the woman his complete attention.

"Our Master summoned me for a task that require my skills as a Potion Master," Severus explained. He glanced the empty throne-like chair. "But I see he isn't present?"

"There was an unexpected development. One of our agents," she gestured toward the unknown man who stiffened at being the subject of a conversation, "brought back some rather interesting information."

"Indeed?" Severus said, sounding politely curious. Just a Death Eater who had been summoned, only to find his master gone when he arrived.

Lestrange's eyes, which usually burned with rabid dedication whenever someone mentioned the Dark Lord, took on an almost feverish gleam. "Yes, our little rat revealed where the Potters' hideout was."

Severus gave no outward indication of being surprised. On the inside, however, his mind was spinning. Revealed? That was impossible!

"Really?" Severus said casually. "I've heard rumours that the Potters were hiding under the Fidelius Charm."

He could tell Lestrange were grinning beneath her mask. "Too bad they picked our agent to be the Secret-Keeper. The Dark Lord left ten minutes ago along with three of us to deal with them personally."

Again Severus didn't react in any other way than politely crocking a brow, but his thoughts raced. Potter _couldn't_ be dead, because if he were, Severus would be oath-sworn to protect his brat for the rest of his life!

_Come on, Potter; you've escaped the Dark Lord's grasp trice, do it a fourth time!"_

Severus checked his mental defences and willed himself to be calm and analytical; he couldn't make a slip here of all places. Potter and Black had been virtually inseparable at Hogwarts. Every time one of them had tormented him, he could be sure the other would be close by, gloating at Severus' misfortune. The thought of one of them betraying the other was laughable. And yet…

Although Potter and Black had been brothers in everything but blood at Hogwarts, Black _had_ shown he was capable of killing many years ago when he tricked Severus into going to the Shrieking Shack... where the werewolf Lupin had been waiting for him. And then there was Black's family to consider, which was... rather pro-Dark. True, Black had made it clear on many occasions how much he loathed his family, but throughout the years Severus had seen stronger men than him bow to pressure from family and friends.

It was a testament to his Occlumency skills that he didn't show any of the panic swelling in him. If the Dark Lord had left over ten minutes ago to kill the Potters himself, then they were most probably already dead, including their son. And if that were the case, what would Severus do then? How could he possibly repay his debt? Would he have to wander the Earth as a restless ghost after he died?

Severus was torn out of his thoughts by a series of sharp cracks as three figures Apparated into the chamber. Instantly he knew that something was wrong. Rockwood had somehow lost his mask and had numb horror written across his entire face. Rodolphus Lestrange and young Crouch both had their masks on, but they looked dishevelled and their eyes shone with silent desperation.

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix demanded sharply. "Where's the Dark Lord?"

"The Dark Lord is... gone," her husband said heavily, as if he didn't want to believe it. "Destroyed by the Killing Curse."

There was a moment of utter and complete silence. Severus' mind spun. _Dead?_ he thought disbelievingly. _Did the prophecy come true? But Potter's son is barely one year old!_

"Destroyed? But- How-? What-?" Bellatrix babbled in horror. Suddenly she leapt forward, seized Crouch's robes and shook him. "_What happened?_"

"It was their son!" Crouch gasped in fear.

Again, an almost surreal silence descended upon the room. If not for the shock Severus felt, he would have found the incredulous looks that came Crouch's way funny.

"Their _son?_" Bellatrix spluttered. "Are you insane? How can a baby fire a Killing Curse?"

"He didn't fire it," Rockwood said tiredly, who finally seemed to have gathered his wits again. "It was the Dark Lord's own curse that rebounded from the child."

Bellatrix let go of Crouch and shock his head in denial. "Impossible. The Killing Curse... it can't be done."

"We saw it," Rockwood continued distractedly. "I saw the Dark Lord duel and kill the father, and then he went upstairs. Through the broken window I could hear the mother begging for mercy, so he killed her, too, of course. Then he tried to kill the child." Rockwood rubbed his face wearily with a hand. "I _heard_ him say the incarnation, Bella. Next thing there was a blast and we heard the Dark Lord screaming for help. We ran inside just in time to se his body… disintegrate. There was nothing left."

Severus finally gave up maintaining his mental shields and shook his head warily. The Dark Lord was dead. Potter was dead, but his son was still alive.

A series of pops and cracks were heard as Death Eaters realized that it was best to leave. Without the Dark Lord's protection, they would almost certainly be captured by the Ministry. The smart ones would try to arrange an alibi, while the stupid ones would just run as far as they could. Sirius Black (Severus was sure it was Black) was the first to leave, quickly followed by Lucius Malfoy, Igor Karkaroff, Walden Macnair...

"No! Come back!" Bellatrix shrieked. "The Dark Lord isn't dead! He's an immortal! Come back, you cowards!"

Severus watched in a kind of detached amusement as Bellatrix raged, while Rockwood took the opportunity to Disapparate, too.

"Barty!" she said, seizing his robes yet again. "You are with me, right?" Barty nodded jerkily, and she turned pleading eyes to him. "Severus?"

"I'm sorry, Bella," Severus snarled and didn't sound at all sorry. "But if the Dark Lord truly is gone, then I'm afraid this is the place where our paths part." And with that he Disapparated to report to Dumbledore. They had to rescue Potter's son, and quickly!

III

"Oh, no! No, no, no!"

If anyone had seen the handsome, black-haired young man sprinting toward the smoking wreckage of what had once been Number Six Grafton Road, they would surly have thought him insane - and it had nothing at all to do with the fact that he had just stepped off a flying motorbike.

"James!" Sirius called in mounting dread as he sprinted toward the remnants of the cottage. "Lily!"

He dashed through what had once been the entrance, almost stumbling in a stump of charred wood. Coughing from the smoke, his eyes darted desperately around, searching for signs of life. The Dark Mark, which the Death Eaters always sent up after having murdered someone, was not hovering above him. That had to mean that James and Lily had fought them off, Sirius thought desperately, grasping at any hope he could find. It _had_ to. He had already lost too many friends in this cursed war; he could not loose another two. And Harry!

Following the horrible stench of burned flesh, and hoping to God it was a Death Eater, Sirius began frantically heaving away rubble. In a matter of seconds, he had uncovered a charred body, completely unrecognisable from the fire. Trembling and gagging, Sirius reached for the man's right hand, hoping that he wouldn't find what he thought he'd find.

James' wand was there.

"Oh, James!" Sirius cried and sat down in the rubble, clutching the wand to his chest. Tears flowed from his eyes and he didn't even try to stop them. He would have recognized that wand anywhere. Old Prongs, Sirius' unofficial brother, was gone. Dead. Memories of their time at Hogwarts flashed past his inner eye; pranks, detentions, adventures with Lupin in his werewolf-form, more pranks, James dating Lily - Lily!

Suddenly he was on his feet again. "Lily!" he called out. Perhaps James had managed to buy his wife and their son enough time to get away. Perhaps that was why there was no sign of the Dark Mark.

"Lily, where are you? It's Sirius!"

"Over here!" came a voice, but it wasn't Lily's. This one was much deeper.

"Hagrid!" Sirius exclaimed as the giant of a man appeared through the smoke. "Quick, help me find Lily and Harry. She-"

"Lily's gone," Hagrid said sorrowfully, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief the size of a towel. For the second time that evening, Sirius felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of him. Lily too. Slowly, the half-giant opened a massive first, revealing Lily's wand.

"Oh, God," Sirius croaked. Trembling he took the wand. "Oh God, this can't be true."

Still sniffing, Hagrid patted Sirius awkwardly on the shoulder and nearly knocked him over.

"Harry," Sirius whispered harshly, still reeling from the shock. "What about Harry?"

Some of the sorrow seemed to lift from Hagrid's eyes. "Oh, he's alright. Got him right here," he said and opened his coat. In one of the half-giant's enormous pockets rested a tiny bundle wrapped in a blanket. Little Harry's face was just peeking out, his eyes closed and sound asleep. But it was to the baby's forehead that Sirius' attention was drawn; a gash in the shape of a lightning bolt marred his features, surrounded by coagulated blood.

Sirius carefully touched the gash with feather light fingers. Harry whimpered in his sleep. "How did he get that?" he asked quietly.

"That's where the Killing Curse struck him."

Sirius blinked and looked up at the half-giant. "_What_ did you say?"

"Professor Snape just reported to Dumbledore," Hagrid explained. "Said he heard You-Know-Who had killed James and Lily, but when he tried to murder Harry, the Killing Curse rebounded. You-Know-Who is dead, Sirius."

Sirius was well aware he was gaping like an idiot, but couldn't help it. "Rebounded," he repeated dumbly. "Voldemort dead."

Hagrid cringed at the mention of Voldemort's name. "Anyways, Professor Dumbledore is expecting me with Harry so I have to get going."

"Going?" Sirius said surprised. "Where?"

"To one of the Order's safe houses," Hagrid said and buttoned up his coat. "I am to await further orders there, but I heard Professor Dumbledore mention something about Lily's sister."

"Petunia Dursley?" Sirius exclaimed, angry now. Who did the old man think he was? "Are you crazy? Lily would barely acknowledge that woman as family! And besides _I_ am Harry's godfather!"

"I have my orders," Hagrid said flatly. "Professor Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

"Hagrid, please! I'll take care of him-"

"I can't do that, Sirius."

Sirius opened his mouth to argue further, but closed it again. Hagrid was far too loyal to Dumbledore to be swayed. He would have to speak with Dumbledore himself to figure out what was going on.

"Alright," he said dully. "Look, take my motorbike. You'll get there faster with it. Besides I don't need it anymore."

Hagrid regarded him for a moment, and then nodded. "Don't worry about Harry; he'll be fine. And take care."

Sirius watched as his motorbike carried Hagrid into the darkness, leaving him alone with the dead bodies of James and Lily Potter. Surveying the remnants of the cottage one last time, a grim determination began to set in. Only one person could have caused all this. Only one filthy traitor could have lead Voldemort to this place.

Clutching the two wands in his left hand, Sirius grinned ferally. Time to go rat-hunting!

III

**1st November 1981**

Peter Pettigrew pressed his back against the dirty ally wall and tried to calm his furiously beating heart. His breath came in swallow gasps, and it wasn't as much from running as from the fear that ran though his veins like poison. So far everything was going according to plan, he reminded himself. He had simply waited in Diagon Alley in rat-form until Sirus showed up, then transformed and 'accidentally' let himself be seen. Predictably, Sirius had followed him out into Muggle London, obviously with murder on his mind. So far, so good. However, the worst remained.

With a trembling hand, he aimed his wand at his left index finger.

"Discerpo," he whispered, and gasped in pain as the Severing Curse cut the finger off. Whimpering, he muttered a quick healing charm to stop the bleeding. After wiping his hand on his robes, he gingerly picked up the severed finger.

Quick, now. Sirius couldn't be far away, and they had to be surrounded by people for his plan to work. With one last deep breath, he strode out into the street.

Muggles hurried past him, most without giving him a second glance, even though he was dressed oddly by their standards. Peter craned his neck in an effort to locate his one-time friend, and whished not for the first time that he had been a bit taller. He tried to swallow his mounting panic and remain calm. Sirius would surly see him before he found Sirius! What if Sirius simply stunned him, or-

"Pettigrew!"

Peter whirled around at the enraged shout. Sirius Black was making his way toward him with his face consorted in rage, roughly shoving Muggles out of the way as he went. Their eyes met, and Peter froze at what he saw there. This was the man who had suffered the ultimate betrayal, a man who would stop at nothing to extract revenge, one who was hell-bent on murder.

_He's going to kill me!_

Peter's mouth opened but not a sound escaped.

_Oh, God! He's going to kill me! The plan! The plan!_

Sirius was merely a few steps away, aiming his wand at Peter when he finally managed to cut through the numbness.

"James and Lily, Sirius!" Peter screamed at the top of his lungs. "How could you?"

Sirius blinked in surprise and confusion, and so did many Muggles.

But Peter didn't waste time; fear focused his mind like it never had before. Quickly he dropped the severed finger, grasped the wand hidden behind his back tighter and whispered: "Validus Ara! Reducto!" And then he triggered his Animagus-transformation.

The first spell brought up an invisible barrier of magic around him; the strongest shield charm Peter knew how to make.

The second, fuelled by Peter's panic, blew an enormous crater in the street and killed twelve Muggles in the process.

III

Sirius stared stunned at the gaping crater right in front of him. He had sensed Pettigrew casting a shield charm and reflexively cast one himself. Several Muggles hadn't been that lucky; at least a dozen of them were lying unmoving around the crater, their limbs twisted in unnatural angles. The explosion had been powerful enough to rupture the sewer pipes; he could see rats scurrying around in panic.

Rats...

An unstoppable laugh forced itself out of Sirius' throat. Peter Pettigrew, a mediocre wizard at best, had outsmarted Sirius Black, the most promising Auror Apprentice in many years. Twice, even! First by transferring suspicion from himself to Remus Lupin, and now this. Muggles all around him were screaming in panic, and he stood there laughing until his stomach hurt.

He was still laughing when multiple cracks and pops announced the arrival of personnel from the Department of Magical Catastrophes. Wiping away tears of laughter, he looked at an Obliviator who stared open-mouthed at the crater. His colleague was frantically shouting orders into a communications-mirror.

"We need more Obliviators to contain this situation! I haven't seen anything like this since You-Know-Who bombed the Ministry!" He stopped briefly to listen to the reply. "Look, just send everything you have, okay? And alert the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee; we're going to need some pretty good explanations-"

Sirius felt a hand on his shoulder. "Mr Black?"

He turned to find a youngish man with messy brown hair nervously aiming a wand at him. Not an Auror - Aurors were in short supply, thanks to Voldemort - but rather someone from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad.

"Mr Black, I'll have to ask you to come with me," the man said.

For a moment Sirius just stared dully at him, the earlier attack of insane mirth having worn out. He wondered perhaps if he should do as the man said... with both Lily and old Prongs dead, what did any of it matter anymore? His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp crack behind him and a barked order:

"Halt!"

Definitely an Auror. Without thinking Sirius Disapparated.

III

Right bellow where Sirius had been standing just a second earlier, inside a sewer pipe, a rat named Peter Pettigrew ran in blind terror. Had he been in human form he would have cried. As it was, he had to settle for squeaking fitfully. Even though his ears were still ringing from the explosion, he had heard Sirius' laughter.

Sirius was still alive.

Picking an intersection on random he ran in a panic. This was not supposed to happen! Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were supposed to kill each other in a duel. After all, no one looks for a dead man. But instead Sirius had managed to raise a shield in time and survived.

What now? _What now?_

Sirius would surly come after him, and so would Peter's former colleagues among the Death Eaters. If Sirius told the Ministry about his Animagus-form, they'd surly put two and two together and send Aurors after him, too. And that didn't even take into the consideration Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix.

Poor, poor Peter Pettigrew!

III


	3. Kidnapping

**Chapter 3: Kidnapping**

**2nd November 1981**

A lone figure slowly shuffled down the street as the first golden rays reached the horizon, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. From his bloodshot eyes, one would have thought that he had been walking through the entire night. A Muggle car rounded the corner before him, and without conscious thought, Sirius turned left into an alley.

Fatigue seemed to finally catch up with him a few steps past a rusty dumpster. He sat down heavily, hugged his knees to his chest and rested his back against the wall without caring how dirty it was.

_James…_

It was like a surreal nightmare. He simply couldn't associate old Prongs with the horribly charred body he had found in Godric's Hollow. How could James, whom he had joked and laughed with, be dead?

_Lily. Beautiful Lily._

Sirius was glad he hadn't seen her dead body; he wanted to remember her as the beautiful woman she had been, not as a mass of burned flesh. He had known that more people would most likely have died before the war was over, people he cared about. But he hadn't expected it to be James and Lily, not as well protected as they had been.

Sirius snorted bitterly. Convincing them to use Pettigrew as Secret-Keeper was the greatest mistake of his life.

_Pettigrew._

At the thought of that filthy rat, anger and hate rose in him like twin monsters and made him bare his teeth in a soundless snarl. The rage and sense of betrayal cut through the fog of sorrow, clearing his mind.

Sirius took a deep breath to calm himself. James and Lily were dead and he couldn't help them. He could, however, take care of their son as he had promised them. Unfortunately, thanks to the little stunt Pettigrew had pulled, he was now most likely wanted for murder. And on top of all that, the Order thought that _he_ had been James and Lily's Secret-Keeper. Once word of that reached the Ministry, they would send Aurors after him.

_Damn, what a mess!_ he thought, rubbing his eyes. The only ones who knew the truth were James, Lily, Pettigrew and himself. James and Lily were dead, and no one would believe him. Which meant that he had to track down and capture Pettigrew in order to prove his innocence.

Sirius stood and straightened his aching back, wondering if he should attempt to contact Albus Dumbledore first. But did he stand any chance at convincing Albus? There was no way of proving his innocence without Pettigrew; Aurors – even Apprentices like Sirius – were trained in Occlumency, and the effect of truth serums like Veritaserum could be fought off in much the same manner as the Imperius Curse. No, he had to find Pettigrew.

But first, he'd check on Harry.

III

Far from London, near a small town named Ottery St. Catchpole, a rat missing a toe was hiding under a bush. The object of Peter's attention was a wizard house, four stories tall, built so crazily he was convinced magic was the only thing that kept it standing. He'd heard rumours it had been designed by an architect just a few months before he ended up permanently in St. Mungo's Psychiatric Ward, and built by a contractor just before _he_ went on a drug-induced rampage in Diagon Alley.

Yet, the Weasleys were a prominent pureblood family and staunch supporters of Dumbledore and his ilk. In other words, the last place anyone would look for a Death Eater. It fit perfectly into Peter Pettigrew's plan.

Hopefully, it would work better than the previous one.

So intently was Peter studying the Burrow, that he didn't hear the rustling of leaves behind him. The crazy giggling caught his attention, however. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw what resembled a potato with legs flashing him a toothy grin. Blinking in surprise, it took a moment for Peter to realize that it was a garden-gnome he was looking at.

_Stupid pests. Born insane, and they don't get any saner as they grow older._

The gnome, however, was acting in a most peculiar manner. It licked its lips and began stepping closer, making cooing sounds that were apparently meant to soothe what it thought was a rat. Peter wasn't sure what to make of it. The gnome was very close now… it was slowly reaching out a hand toward him, staring at Peter with an expression that looked both eager and... hungry.

_Oh, shit!_

Peter broke into a run; narrowly avoiding the gnome's grasping hand. The damn thing wanted to eat him! He ran as fast as he could, around a tree with a sling dangling from a branch, all the time hearing the sounds of running footsteps behind him. Suddenly another gnome seemed to grow right out of the ground in front of him, and with a terrified squeak Peter darted to the left.

_Ohshit!Ohshit!Ohshit!Ohshit!_

Not for the first time Peter cursed his Animagus form. As a rat, his face was so close to the ground he couldn't see the bloody gnome-holes before it was too late! He felt something pulling at his tail fleetingly, but thankfully it was quickly gone. Suddenly a shadow fell on him, and without thinking he veered to the right. Seconds later a gnome landed on its chest where he had just been.

Peter saw several more gnomes popping up of the ground, shouting something that sounded like: "Yum, yum!" Adrenalin pumped through his veins until he thought they would surly burst, as he ran in a zigzag pattern through the garden. If he could just reach the kitchen entrance he'd be safe.

_Great Merlin, this is it,"_ he thought panicky as he avoided a gnome with a particularly nasty grin. _I can already see the headlines: 'Death Eater Peter Pettigrew eaten by garden-gnomes!' The Daily Prophet will love it!_

The kitchen was just a few yards away, and Peter tried to quicken the already breakneck pace. He risked a glance over his shoulder and squealed in terror when he saw a gnome ("Yum, yum!") so close he could actually see the salvia dripping from its chin. The eager look in its eyes sent chills down Peter's spine.

Then suddenly he was running along the rough wooden floor of the kitchen.

"Gnomes!"

The first thing he realized as he slid to a halt was that the kitchen was occupied by a short, plump woman who had to be Mrs Weasley, and a wide eyed kid who was obviously her son. The mother gave the gnomes a single look of disgust, and with a flick of her wand, they went flying back into the garden.

"I've _told_ Arthur the garden needs to be de-gnomed," the woman muttered as she went back to making breakfast. "Merlin knows why he finds those pests so funny..."

Peter wasn't listening to her, however; he was keeping an eye on her son, who was staring intensely at him. Glancing at his mother, the boy slid down from the chair and kneeled in front of Peter.

Slowly, a smile spread across his face. "Can I keep you?" he whispered.

Peter barely hesitated before nodding his head vigorously. Originally his plan had been to just hide in the house, but those gnomes... He was more than ready to swallow the humiliation of being a _pet_ if it kept him from being eaten.

Giggling, young Percy Weasley gathered the rat up with both hands.

III

Next morning, Petunia Dursley would most likely scream in horror, something which had a lot to do with the huge, black dog that were currently sitting in her (no longer) perfectly well-kept flower bed. However, the dog hadn't picked that exact spot in order to wreak maximum havoc on her roses, but rather because it allowed him to look through a window into the kitchen while being shielded from view by a conveniently placed bush.

After arriving in Privet Drive, the first thing Sirius had done had been to cast a subtle Exposing Charm, revealing the cobweb of blood-red light that surrounded number four. Obviously magical wards - the strongest he had ever seen - and rooted in some sort of blood magic. He had spent a while studying it, but soon realized that the wards had been tailored toward _intent_. No one who wished harm upon the inhabitants would be able to _see_ the house, far less enter it. Sirius didn't want ot harm anyone, of course, and could as such just walk in. However, if he knew Albus Dumbledore right, the old man had probably arranged for someone to keep an eye on number four too. Hence his present form as Padfoot.

His original plan had just been to sneak up to a window in the gathering dusk, and peek in to see if Harry was all right. The problem was that Harry most certainly wasn't all right.

In the kitchen, Petunia was doting on a cubby baby with blonde curls that was obviously her son, feeding him spoonful after spoonful of baby food. To Sirius, it appeared that the fat boy didn't have a stomach, but a gaping maw.

"There, Duddykins!" Petunia cooed, as her son swallowed another mouthful. "Want another one? Do you? Of course you do!"

She completely ignored the other baby who was sitting on the other side of the table, whimpering pitifully and staring with green eyes at the food that disappeared in his cousin's greedy mouth.

_Well? Are you finished feeding that blimp, yet?_ Sirius thought angrily. _There's another kid in the room, you know!_

Harry whimpered a little louder, and his Aunt's lips thinned as she gave him a sharp glance over her shoulder, before returning her attention to the blimp. Sirius let out a growl.

After a few more minutes, it appeared that Harry's cousin had finally had enough, giving a tremendous burp. His Aunt doted some more, before picking him up (not without difficulty) and carried him to the living room, presumably to a playpen.

_About bloody time! Going to feed Harry, now?_

Seconds later, Petunia came marching back into the kitchen. To Sirius' amazement, however, she grabbed a box of chicken soup, opened it and poured the contents in a bowl. Sirius looked confused at her. She wasn't possibly going to-

His suspicion was confirmed when Petunia put down the bowl with the stone-cold soup on the table with a bang.

Sirius was almost too shocked and angry to form a coherent thought. _She- she is going to feed him_ that?

"Well?" Petunia snapped, standing there with a spoonful of the stuff beside Harry. "Are you going to eat or not?"

Harry eyed the spoon dubiously a moment before accepting. Sirius watched his face go from tentative to disgusted in an eyeblink, and then he spat the cold soup out, protesting loudly.

"You ungrateful brat!" Petunia shrieked. "Look what you did! Soup and spittle all over my kitchen table!"

Enraged, she tried to force another spoonful down Harry's throat, who of course just protested louder.

"Fine, then!" Petunia spat, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. "Go without food, for all I care!"

Then, to Sirius' utter disbelief, she grabbed the wailing Harry and hauled him out into the hall - he could still see them through the open kitchen door - opened the door to a cupboard and literally _tossed_ the child inside. Slamming the door shut, she stalked back into the kitchen.

Sirius had seen enough. More than enough. What on Earth had Albus been thinking, sending Harry to stay with these people? With a growl, he shifted back to human form, no longer caring if anyone saw him. Furiously, he tore open the backdoor leading to the kitchen and strode inside.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my kitchen?" Petunia exclaimed in shock at seeing the stranger. Then suddenly she blanched when she caught sight of the wand Sirius now held, and the expression on his face.

"The name is Sirius Black," he snarled at her. "And I have come for Harry Potter."

"He's in the cupboard under the stairs," Petunia said nervously and backed away until she bumped into the kitchen bench.

"I already know that, thank you very much," Sirius snarled, brushing past her out to the hall, disgusted that she would surrender a baby to a stranger without a fight. Petunia's husband was apparently not home, and even if he had been he could not have stopped Sirius. He nearly ripped the door to the cupboard of the hinges.

"Pa'foot!" Harry shrieked in delight at seeing his godfather.

"There, there. All will be fine, Harry," Sirius said and gently gathered Harry up in his arms. He wiped away tears from Harry's face, while Harry himself tried to put his tiny arms around Sirius' neck.

He walked back into the kitchen and scowled at Petunia. "Is this a way to treat a child?" he demanded angrily. "What's the matter with you?"

"He isn't _my_ child," Petunia shot back. "Now leave before I call the police."

Sirius was sorely tempted to hex the woman into oblivion, but the rational side of him assumed that the wards wouldn't let him. He made to leave, but on impulse he first opened the refrigerator and took out one of the boxes of baby food. Staring at Petunia and silently daring her to say anything, he put the box in his pocket. And then he was out the door.

Feeling the chilly air and lacking a blanket, Sirius took off his jacket and gently wrapped Harry in it. When he attempted to Disapparate, however, he cringed from the feeling of ice-cold water flowing down his neck.

_Anti-Disapparating wards,_ Sirius thought. He looked down at Harry, who stared curiously back with brilliant green eyes.

"Hang on there, Emeralds," Sirius said to him. "We have to move fast now."

And with that he broke into a run, easily jumping over the fence and continuing down the street. In his arms, Harry giggled at the new game. Sirius didn't think it any funny. The wards had probably triggered an alarm, which meant that Albus had already been warned that someone had attempted to Disapparate inside number four.

Panting slightly, he stopped after a couple hundred yards and tried again. With a crack they were gone.

III

At Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore was working late. Even in times at war (although this particular war had abruptly ended) he was still Headmaster, and he still had paperwork to do. He had been in session with the Wizengamot throughout most of the day, planning mop-up operations against Voldemort's Death Eaters. After that the Minister of Magic had wanted a meeting, asking for all kinds of advice. All this had the consequence of creating a huge backlog where boring paperwork was concerned.

Albus sighed as he put away one parchment and began writing on another. He hadn't even had time to grieve properly over James and Lily. Well, at least their son were safe and-

The deep, vibrating sound from a huge gong tore Albus out of his musings and startled the napping paintings of former Headmasters and –mistresses awake. Fear gripped his heart, as he dropped the quill and stood up abruptly. Someone had just attempted to Disapparate inside the wards protecting the Dursley's house.

Quickly he brought out his wand. James and Lily were dead; he _couldn't_ allow anything to happen to Harry, too.

"Fawkes, please take me to Privet Drive," Albus said to his phoenix familiar.

The gold and crimson bird took off from his perch and landed on the desk, half turning and offering his tail to the ancient wizard. Albus grasped it, and they both disappeared in a flash of fire. For an immeasurably small moment it seemed like they were flying through an enormous firestorm, but the fire didn't burn either of them. Then Albus suddenly felt his feet smack down on hard asphalt.

Immediately he had his wand in guard-position. His sharp, blue eyes surveyed the surrounding area, while Fawkes landed on a branch in a nearby tree. Everything seemed to be quiet, except… There was a lone figure standing further down the street. Just as Albus saw him, however, he Disapparated.

Albus hurried down the street to the spot where he had seen the stranger. With a whispered incarnation he cast a Tracking Charm. A faint purple mist appeared for a fleeting moment before it vanished, and his shoulders sagged with disappointment. Whoever the stranger was, he had apparently charmed his clothes with a Diffusion Spell, dispelling the magical residue left from Disapparating and making it impossible to track him.

Dreading the worst, Albus made his way back to number four. He knocked twice and entered before anyone had time to answer, surprising Petunia Dursley in the hall.

"Pro- Professor Dumbledore!" she gasped and blanched at the thought of having a fully-grown and trained wizard in her home.

"Where's Harry?" Albus asked without preamble. He didn't have time for her bigotry now.

"He's gone," Petunia said, sniffing. "Some stranger walked in here and took him. It's not my fault! He was one of _your_ kind, and I will not have it, I tell you-!"

Albus' heart fell. "Can you describe him?" he said, interrupting what was promising to be an impressive tirade.

Petunia grimaced. "Tall, black-haired- said his name was Sirius Black."

Albus closed his eyes and put thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose. _Oh, Sirius. Wasn't it enough that you betrayed us all? Wasn't it enough that you killed three of your friends? Did you have to kidnap Harry, too?_ He shuddered at the thought of what a Death Eater might do to a child.

"If that's all, would you kindly leave my home?" Petunia said rudely.

Albus gave her a tired look. "I shall. Good bye, Petunia."

Back out on the street, the ancient wizard gave number four one last look. He had to search through his books on blood magic again, to see if there was anything he had overlooked. Sirius must obviously somehow have exploited a hole or weakness in the wards.

But first he had to inform the Ministry and ask them to organize a manhunt.

III

At Land's End, a few miles west of Penzance, stands a ruinous old shack. Its windows are all boarded up and every entrance sealed. When the wind blows one can hear eerie creaking sounds, as if the building is ready to collapse any moment. Even if Muggle Repelling Charms hadn't covered every inch of it, no Muggle in his right mind would be foolish enough to enter.

Sirius Black smiled for the first time in days as he took in the sight of the shack. One of the many things one learned during Auror training was how to set up safe houses. Sirius, having become a bit paranoid as the war escalated and recalling fond memories of the Shrieking Shack, had taken the liberty of setting up a safe house no one else but he knew about.

The smile suddenly fell from his face. This was where he had been planning to hide as James and Lily's Secret-Keeper. Why couldn't he have gone through with the original plan? But Sirius had never been able to leave 'good enough' alone…

Harry made a gurgling sound. Sirius smiled bitterly at him. "Don't worry, kid. I may have failed your parents, but I'm not going to fail you."

Determined, he strode up to the shack, and once the Locking Charms were certain Sirius was really Sirius, the door swung up by itself. He snapped his fingers and instantly a number of gas lamps lit up. Inside, the shack was a far cry from its less than perfect exterior.

The light from the lamps revealed a small but cosy living room. A sofa and one armchair were arranged around a coffee table, and a second armchair stood in front of a fireplace where a crackling fire already burned. Shelves with Sirius' favourite books lined one wall to the right, while the door to the kitchen could be seen to the left. Stairs lead up to the second floor with two bedrooms and a bathroom.

"Welcome to Padfoot's Den," Sirius said to Harry with forced cheerfulness. He sat Harry down in the armchair beside the table, removing his jacket. "Bet you want something to eat, and I'm not talking about cold chicken soup."

"Ma?" Harry suddenly said, and Sirius froze in place. Gulping against the sudden constriction in his chest, he looked at his godson whom looked back with innocent green eyes.

"Ma?" Harry repeated.

Sirius knelt beside him. "Mom... isn't here right now," he said carefully, trying to keep his voice level.

Harry frowned in confusion. "Da?" he said, hopefully. Sirius almost broke down at seeing the expression in his face.

"Dad isn't here either, Harry," he choked out.

Harry looked disappointed for a moment, but then brightened. "Pa'foot!"

"That's right. I'm here, and I'm going to stay with you," Sirius whispered. Who cared if he was a wanted man? He had his godson and that was all that mattered. One way or the other, he was going to take care of Harry, just like he had promised James and Lily.

III


	4. Encounter

**Chapter 4: Encounter**

**3rd November 1981**

Sirius awoke the next day in the armchair with sunlight streaming in through the windows. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, careful not to disturb Harry, who was still sleeping in his lap. Gently he lifted Harry up, rose, and put him back down in the armchair. Sirius had a lot of things to do today.

Padfoot's Den was stocked with enough supplies for three months, but after they ran out, he would need his gold from Gringotts. He still had some money left from Uncle Alphard. Combined with his savings, it should last them a few years if they were careful. They wouldn't need much, after all. Mostly food and occasionally new clothing - he glanced at the now empty box of baby food on the table - and more of that stuff. The problem was that he couldn't go to Gringotts as Sirius Black if he wanted to stay out of Azkaban.

He conjured up a life-sized mirror and regarded himself. _A shame to hide such a handsome chap,_ he thought, grinning.

First he transfigured his hair colour into light brown, like Remus', and shortened it from its usual shoulder length. Next he changed his eye colour from grey into a deep chocolate brown. He worked on his facial features some more with an assortment of charms and spells, and when he was done even his critical eye had to admit he was completely unrecognisable. Gone was Sirius Black, feared mass-murderer, and replaced with a rather plain and ordinary looking fellow.

Sirius nodded in satisfaction. With a gesture of his wand, the faded and torn jeans he wore became a lot more respectable, and his leather jacket turned into a dark grey coat. He glanced at Harry and was surprised to see him sitting in the armchair, staring at Sirius in delight.

"You like magic, don't you?" Sirius smiled. Harry merely giggled.

Sirius transfigured an old jumper he had found in a closet into a sling carrier and slipped it over his head and one shoulder, creating a pocket to hold Harry in. He lifted Harry up and gently put him into the sling carrier. Then he put his coat on and slung an empty bag over his shoulder. A simple illusion prevented anyone from seeing the funny bulge.

"Alright, down there?" Sirius asked.

"Oot!"

"Great. Let's go then."

On impulse he first charmed the empty box of baby food into a keyword-activated Portkey and stuck it in his pocket. One 'crack' later, Sirius and Harry had vanished from Padfoot's Den, and reappeared in the small alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Stepping over an overturned trashcan, Sirius brought out his wand and frowned at the brick wall.

"Let's see; three up, two across... that's the one."

He tapped the right brick thrice with his wand and stepped through the archway that formed. Diagon Alley was overflowing with wizards and witches of all ages, and half of the snippets of conversations he overheard had to do with Harry and the fall of Voldemort. During the war, few had ventured outside their homes for any length of time; it seemed as if the entire wizarding population of Britain were making up for it now.

Sirius absently put a hand over the invisible bulge on his coat. It hadn't really sunk in, yet. _Harry_ had survived the unblockable Killing Curse. _Harry_ had managed what the greatest wizards and witches of the age had failed in; defeating the invincible Voldemort. How? How was that possible?

He shook off those thoughts. There would be time enough for thinking about that once they returned to Padfoot's Den. Now he had to focus on his objective. They passed a newspaper stand and Sirius took the time to pay the boy behind the desk five Knuts for a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. All space on the front page had been devoted to two magnificent headlines:

_**Confirmed: The Dark Lord Defeated by Harry Potter**_

And further down, but with just as large types:

_**Death Eater Sirius Black kidnaps the Boy-Who-Lived**_

_So I'm a Death Eater, now,_ Sirius thought resignedly. _That means the Ministry knows I was supposed to be James and Lily's Secret-Keeper._

Sirius folded the newspaper and stuck it in his pocket; he'd read it later. He swiftly manoeuvred through the milling crowd, heading for Gringotts. The goblin guarding the front doors of burnished bronze gave him no more but a fleeting glance. In the entrance chamber, there were two more goblins whom opened the silver doors to the main hall for him. He swiftly walked over to the nearest free goblin accountant and handed him the key.

"I wish to have all of my gold in vault 713 exchanged for British pounds and make a complete withdrawal."

The goblin crocked a brow. "A rather unusual request, sir. Is there anything about our services you are not satisfied with?"

"Not at all. I merely have some unfinished business in the Muggle-world to take care off."

"I see." The goblin examined the key for a moment. "Well, all the charms are intact, so everything seems to be in order."

He tapped the key twice against a magical device that looked like a golden dish someone had put upside down, before handing the key back to Sirius. The device spat out a thin strip of paper from a crack, which the goblin tore off and read:

"16,874 gallons, 14 sickles and 6 knuts," the goblin stated and looked at Sirius. "Correct?"

"Er- Yes, that sounds about right."

A metal drawer opened magically, and the goblin took out several wads of bills and put them on the desk. Sirius unzipped the bag he had taken with him and stuffed the Muggle money inside, idly wondering why Muggles insisted on using paper instead of coins. Closing the bag, he slung it over his shoulder.

"No sudden movements, Black."

Sirius froze as his heart skipped a beat. He knew that voice.

"Keep your hands in the air, where I can see them," the voice growled. "Now!"

Sirius raised his hands, swallowing against his suddenly dry throat. _Damn, why did it have to be him?_

"Turn around, slowly."

He complied, slowly turning, to come face to face with one of the last persons in the world he wanted to see right now, right after Voldemort and Dumbledore; a hideously scarred man in his late forties who was the Ministry of Magic's top Auror… Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody.

Trying to calm his pounding heart, Sirius absently noted another Auror standing beside Moody; a young witch with curly, blonde hair who looked fresh out of the Auror Academy. She had her wand in guard position, and her ice-blue eyes were constantly darting from place to place, seeking danger. Probably on her first assignment. Behind them, other Gringotts customers were nervously paying attention.

"Er- Hello, Alastor," Sirius said. Moody had both his normal and his magical eye trained on him, and that was unnerving to say the least. Especially since there was a look in his normal one which Sirius had never seen there before; a mix of loathing, sadness and a sense of betrayal.

Moody didn't return the greeting. "Forgot that you mentioned the number of your vault to Dumbledore a couple years ago, did you?" he said slowly. "You make a poor Death Eater, Black."

"Look, Alastor-" Sirius began.

"Open your coat," Moody growled.

"What?"

Moody's normal eye seemed to harden even more. "I said: Open your bloody coat!"

Sirius gulped. It had probably been Moody's magical eye that had alerted him to Harry's presence, otherwise they would probably just have stunned or disarmed Sirius from behind. Thank Merlin for small favours; even something as harmless as 'expelliarmus' could very well magically cripple someone as young as Harry. Nervously, Sirius did as he had been asked. Little Harry looked curiously out of the opening with bright green eyes.

Moody nodded in grim satisfaction. "Lesson number one, Palmer," he said, obviously addressing the other Auror. "Death Eaters are not above taking hostages."

Palmer's eyes stopped at Sirius. Her expression didn't change, but she gave a small nod.

"Harry is not my hostage, Alastor!" Sirius said through clenshed teeth. "And I am not a Death Eater. I was never James and Lily's Secret-Keeper, Pettigrew was."

"Ah, and since Pettigrew is now dead, there's no one to dispute that, is there? How convenient." The sound of utter disgust in Moody's voice made Sirius cringe. "And I'm sure you have a wonderful story for explaining why you kidnapped the boy, too."

"Well-"

"Save it," Moody snapped. "Hand over the boy. Carefully."

"Listen to me!" Sirius pleaded, making one last desperate attempt to convince the Auror. "Why in Merlin's name would I betray James? You know I've always loathed the Dark Arts; why would I choose to become a Death Eater?"

Moody stared at him expressionlessly and for a moment Sirius allowed himself to hope. Then suddenly the hope was brutally extinguished when the Auror's face set grimly.

"I'll ask one more time," Moody said deceptively softly. "Hand over the boy."

Sirius' shoulders sagged in defeat. Closing his eyes, he whispered: "I'm sorry, James."

At the mention of the phrase, the Portkey in Sirius' pocket activated. He felt the familiar tug behind his navel, and then Harry squealed in delight as they vanished in a swirl of colour. Sirius nearly lost his footing when they landed in a deserted area thirty miles further north. Quickly he reached in his pocket for the Portkey and threw it away, then he immediately Disapparated before Moody could trace the Portkey-signature.

III

"By the time I managed to figure out the Portkey's destination, the bastard had already Disapparated," Alastor said, finishing his report.

"I see," Albus said warily. He looked at the dozen or so witches and wizards sitting around the table; Alastor Moody, of course, Severus Snape with his trademark scowl, a sad-looking Hagrid, a very, very, very depressed Remus Lupin… there were so few of them left. The war had cut their numbers down to less than half. A few years more and the Order of the Phoenix would have been exterminated.

_And by Merlin, do I feel old!_

Albus sighed. "At least we know Harry is alive. And from Sirius Black's actions I think we can surmise that he wish to keep him that way for the time being."

"Probably so he can teach the boy the Dark Arts," Alastor growled. "The treacherous _bastard!_"

"I still can't believe it!" Hagrid said angrily and hammered a massive first into the table, which groaned dangerously. "That Sirius of all people would turn to the Dark!"

"Me neither," Albus said wearily. "I don't think anyone of us saw this coming."

"I did," Remus said softly. It was the first sound anyone had heard from the werewolf since the meeting began, and every head turned toward him.

"What do you mean?" Minerva demanded

Remus' face twisted into a grimace as if he was in pain. "I suspected he was the spy that was feeding Voldemort information," he said without meeting anyone's eyes.

"Then why in Merlin's name didn't you inform the rest of us?" Severus snarled.

"Because I usually look for _evidence_ before accusing childhood friends of being Death Eaters!" Remus snarled right back and glared at the ex-Death Eater with so much barely contained fury Severus recoiled from the sight. In the blink of an eye the young man's usually mild manners had been abruptly swept away and the savage ferocity he usually buried deep within himself shone through.

"Remus, please!" Albus said, trying to save his Potions teacher from being mauled. "We gain nothing from infighting."

Remus relaxed gradually, but kept glaring at Severus. "I presume we'll keep searching?" he asked.

"Of course. The wizarding world may think that Voldemort is gone, but I know beyond a doubt that he will return," Albus said with absolute conviction. His blue eyes peered at them over his spectacles. "He _has_ risen to power before, and he _will_ rise to power again. There's only a question of _when_. And when he does, we are going to need Harry Potter... or the world will fall."

III

"_...and there's no doubt that Sirius Black was indeed James and Lily Potter's Secret-Keeper," Albus Dumbledore says. "I cast the charm on them personally."_

_This pronouncement by the most revered and respected wizards in the world has generated even more support for the manhunt currently being undertaken by the Ministry. However, even with the considerable amount of recourses dedicated to the task, there is a lot of concern that it will be too late for Harry Potter._

"_We remain optimistic, of course," Bartemius Crouch (Sr) says. "After Black's recent appearance in Gringotts, the British Isles is being scoured by Ministry personnel. Not only is it our duty to the wizarding world to track down and dispose of every last Death Eater, but we also owe it to Mr Potter after he rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."_

_Although the Ministry all agree on the importance of capturing Sirius Black as quickly as possible, there is considerable disagreement of what to do with him once the goal has been accomplished. Mr Crouch stands by his controversial decision to send Sirius Black to Azkaban immediately upon capture, without a trial._

"_A Death Eater takes _pleasure_ from murdering and torturing," he says empathically. "Being a Death Eater is being a traitor to the entire wizarding world. They do not deserve a trial! Sirius Black least of all; he betrayed his childhood friends and their one year old son to his master, for Merlin's sake!"_

_Headmaster Dumbledore disagrees, however:_

"_The ability to defend one's case in a trial is a right, not a privilege to be taken away by the Ministry as it chooses," Professor Dumbledore says. "Department Head Crouch has been very successful in combating Lord (Censored)'s dark minions, but only at the expense of turning almost as dark himself."_

_Annoyed, Mr Crouch rejects this as 'nonsense'..._

Sirius angrily threw away the _Daily Prophet_, and sank further down into the comfortable armchair. So he was to be shipped off to Azkaban without a trial, was he? Well, one couldn't expect anything less from old Crouch. He looked at his godson who were sitting in the sofa, carefully examining Sirius' jacket as curious as only a small child can be.

"Looks like we're alone, you and I," he said and smiled bitterly.

Harry looked up. "Oot?"

Sirus sighed and put thumb and forefinger at the ridge of his nose. It pained him greatly to know that Dumbledore thought him guilty of such a hideous crime, but he couldn't make himself blame the man. After all, all he had done was to look at the available evidence and drawn the obvious conclusion.

Even though he had never in his life been in a worse mess, Sirius had allowed himself to hope he'd find a way to clear things up quickly. Harry shouldn't have to be raised by a man on the run from the Ministry. However, Sirius couldn't go hunting for Pettigrew and look after Harry simultaneously. And he couldn't, simply _couldn't_ give Harry back to Dumbledore. The boy was his last link to James in a world where everyone thought him a murderer, his last link to sanity.

"Doggy?"

Sirius shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts. Harry was staring at him in anticipation. "What was that, Harry?"

"Doggy?" Harry repeated, hopefully.

Sirius had to grin, despite the events of the day. "Sure," he said, and shifted form. Harry squealed in delight at seeing his godfather transform into the large black dog.

_Oh, to hell with Crouch, Dumbledore and Mad-eye, _Sirius thought._ They can wait for a while._

III


	5. Captured

**Chapter 5: Captured**

**6th May 1982**

**(Six months after Harry's kidnapping)**

Lucius Malfoy sat down warily in his favourite armchair. Every source of light aside from the crackling fire had been turned off. The fire cast long, sinister shadows throughout the room, and added to the dark and gloomy atmosphere of Malfoy Manor. Just how Lucius liked it.

It had been a harsh few months since his arrest by Ministry Aurors, being confined to a barren cell with none of the comforts he was used to. However, he had avoided being sent to Azkaban, and that was what counted. He had been forced to spend gold like water and call in every favour anyone in the Ministry owed him, but through bribery and deception he'd managed to convince them that he had been under the effects of the Imperius Curse. Of course, it had helped that Barty Crouch's own son had been captured as a Death Eater along with the Lestranges. Apparently the fools had been torturing the Longbottoms in an attempt to discover the whereabouts of the Dark Lord. Nice little scandal, that.

He snapped his fingers and his house-elf immediately appeared with a sharp _crack!_

"Wine, Dobby," Lucius ordered, pausing to consider. "Boileau's Most Ancient Ice-Wine, I think."

"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir," the house-elf squeaked and vanished to carry out his Master's orders.

Lucius wrinkled his nose in disgust. Having that non-human _creature_ in his manor were only narrowly - narrowly! – outweighed by the benefits that came with the arrangement.

Brushing thoughts of the house-elf aside, Lucius considered what to do next. The best would absolutely be to lie low for a while. Not make any public appearances, just keep his head down until things settled. Most of his former colleagues among the Death Eaters would undoubtedly be captured. However, several of them had already managed to evade the Ministry's clutches. Wizards and witches of their talents could provide useful in the future, so it would be a good idea for Lucius to - discreetly - maintain contact with some of them.

"The Master's wine, Master Malfoy, sir," a voice said fearfully to his right. Lucius took the wine glass and dismissed the creature with a wave of his hand. He took a sip from the chilled wine and regarded the hundreds of ice-crystals that swirled around in the glass. The magical liquid calmed and refreshed him, and he could feel taut muscles finally beginning to relax after the ordeal. Lucius made himself comfortable and begun running through a mental list of those who remained of the Dark Lord's inner circle.

Evan Rosier had been killed by Aurors a month ago, a real pity... Igor Karkaroff had avoided Azkaban by selling out several other Death Eaters, but was too much of a coward to be useful... Walden Macnair had also managed to twist away; there was one potential... Crabbe and Goyle could be useful as muscle... Avery? Maybe, maybe not...

Lucius spent an hour staring into the fire and laying plans. He would have to be very careful; he didn't put it past the Ministry to keep watch on him just to be safe. Maintaining a network of former Death Eaters would be worth the risk, however, should the Dark Lord ever return.

Ah, yes. The Dark Lord.

He shuddered and sank further down in the armchair. If the Dark Lord returned, he probably wouldn't be very happy hearing how Lucius had renounced him so quickly. But what if he presented the Dark Lord with a gift...? Like, say, in the form of the boy who caused his downfall?

Lucius grimaced. He still had trouble believing it. The Dark Lord had been a juggernaught; an unstoppable tide of darkness that had swept away all opposition. For a decade, he had gone from victory to victory, destroying everyone who dared to cross him in a numbing show of invincibility.

And then he had been destroyed by a _baby_.

According to the _Daily Prophet_ neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore seemed to know where Harry Potter was. The boy had apparently been abducted from his Muggle relatives' house by Sirius Black; the Death Eater who had betrayed Potter's parents to the Dark Lord, and then murdered Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles. Lucius knew some of that to be false, however. _Pettigrew_ had been the one to betray the Potters, whereupon Sirius Black had apparently killed him in a rage. A fitting end for the one who lead the Dark Lord to his destruction.

However... Had Black killed Pettigrew for betraying his friends, or for setting the Dark Lord up for his downfall? Was he a Death Eater or not? Out of security reasons, no one in the Dark Lord's organization had known the identity of all the others, so there was a very real possibility that Black had indeed been a Death Eater. But there was no way for Lucius to know for sure.

He drank up the last of his wine. In any case, he had no idea where Black or the boy was, but it didn't hurt to alert his remaining contacts to be on the lookout. Perhaps he would get lucky.

III

**8th May 1982**

In a glade a few kilometres north of a small Muggle village, air was suddenly displaced with a small 'pop' as the space it occupied were abruptly replaced with an adult human being. Where there previously had only been twilight and the occasional sound from insects or small animals, was now one Albus Dumbledore.

He raised his wand, muttering: "Lumos Multica."

A dozen fist-sized spheres emitting a warm, soft light flew out of his wand and spread out in a large circle around him. The old wizard let the wand disappear within the folds of his robes and folded his hands in front of him, content to wait.

A few minutes passed in which Albus did nothing, his mind obviously preoccupied elsewhere. Abruptly there was a 'pop' and a 'crack' as two tired-looking people materialized inside the circle; Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape.

"Welcome, Minerva and Severus. Lemon drop?" Albus added out of old habit.

"No thank you, Albus," Minerva declined, like she always did. Severus merely grimaced at the mention of the sweet, like _he_ always did.

Minerva's expression was gloomy, mixed with grim acceptance. Severus stood there with crossed his arms in front of his chest, scowling even darker than usual. Albus knew what that meant.

"From your expressions I take it that you were also unsuccessful?" he asked softly.

"_Completely_ unsuccessful!" Severus snapped. "Headmaster, is there no way to get the Ministry to resume the search? We are wasting our time, trying to find him ourself. The boy could be anywhere, and in God knows what condition!"

Minerva was dry-washing her hands in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. "I fear I must agree with Severus. You know how much Death Eaters enjoy to torture and kill-" She stopped, obviously both unwilling and incapable to continue. Despite her stern exterior, Albus knew she had a soft heart, and the thought of Harry in the hands of a Death Eater was almost more than he himself could bear.

"No, Harry is alive," Albus stated with conviction. "He _must_ be. You all know how much depends upon him. Unfortunatly, I haven't been able to convince the Ministry of that."

Severus' expression didn't change, but Albus could see the dark rage in his eyes. "Then we'll continue to search for the boy without the Ministry."

Albus put a hand on the Potion Master's shoulder. "Yes, but for now let's head home for some much needed rest. I think all of us can do with a little sleep."

III

**9th May 1982**

It had taken six months before Sirius dared risk a new expedition to Diagon Alley. The Ministry had finally given up the search of Harry, but Sirius himself was still a wanted man. Of course, he was much more nervous about the Order of the Phoenix. The Ministry might give up, but Albus Dumbledore never would.

Carefully manoeuvring through the crowd while carrying Harry, Sirius repeatedly reminded himself no one had any reason to suspect whom they were. Both he and Harry now had short, blond hair with blue eyes, amongst other facial alterations. Harry's scar had, for a short while, posed a problem; no charm or spell seemed able to hide it. Several hours of frustration had passed before Sirius remembered how Muggles disguised themselves. After a bit of experimentation, he had settled for a thin patch of rubber, kept into place on Harry's forehead with a temporary binding spell and charmed to look like skin. Anyone who saw them would simply assume that they were father and son.

First order of business upon arriving in Diagon Alley, (per portkey, much to Harry's delight) had been a trip to Flourish & Blotts to buy a book on the Fidelius Charm, in order to increase the security at Padfoot's Den. Although he had _seen_ that particular charm been preformed twice, he had never done so himself.

"_And this time I really am going to be Secret-Keeper,"_ Sirius thought bitterly.

Next, he needed to send a letter to Remus, explaining the whole mess he was in. Sirius had debated with himself long and hard on this. In the event that Remus wouldn't believe him, he would almost certainly go to Dumbledore with the letter. And that powerful wizard might be able to trace the owl's flightpath back to its starting point. However, in the end Sirius had decided that Remus _deserved_ to know. Besides, if he just hired a random owl at the Owl Office, no one would be able to find them even if Dumbledore somehow _did_ manage to trace the owl.

"Oot!"

Sirius started slightly and looked down at Harry. "Hush, there," he said nervously and looked around to see if anyone had heard. No reason to fear. Wizards and witches were milling past in all directions totally unconcerned of the young child's outburst. None of them had any reason to know what 'Oot' meant.

None of them except one.

Sirius froze momentary as he saw the young man with light brown hair and dark circles around his eyes. It seemed as if Remus Lupin still had trouble sleeping, six months after James and Lily's deaths.

_Keep walking, you idiot!_ Sirius berated himself.

As calmly as he could he resumed walking, brushing past his old friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Remus frown at him. Did he suspect anything? Their disguises were as perfect as he knew how to make them; there was simply no way that anyone could recognize them. The Portkey in his pocket seemed to have gained weight; now it felt as if he was walking around with a Bludger.

"Excuse me!"

Remus' voice. Reflexively, Sirius increased his speed hoping to loose him in the crowd. This was no place for explanations of the sort Remus would want. He hurried past the Owl Office and down Knockturn Alley. Hooded wizards and witches gave him suspicious looks as he walked past barely short of a run.

"Wait!"

Remus was right behind them now. With his heart pounding in his chest, Sirius stopped and carefully sat down Harry. He turned to face the tired and unshaven werewolf with an expression he hoped was politely curious.

"Can I help you, sir?" Sirius asked cautiously, thanking whatever gods or fates existed that he had remembered to change his voice. "My son and I are in a bit of a hurry, you see."

Remus didn't answer. He had his wand out, but didn't point it in Sirius direction. Instead he was regarding them with a frown, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Out of the corners of his eyes, Sirius could see people vanishing inside buildings. After a decade of war and frequent Auror raids, the people of Knockturn Alley had learned to stay out of trouble.

"Sir?" Sirius asked again. Remus was leaning forward, his nostrils flaring. It was almost like he was... scenting.

_Bloody hell! Our scent!_ Sirius thought, horrified. Due to their condition, werewolves had a far better sense of smell even in their human aspect, and Sirius never even thought of masking their _scent_.

Remus' eyes suddenly narrowed in recognition. "Sirius."

Sirius cringed from the hate and loathing in his voice. "Remus, I-"

Remus gave his wand a small, almost unnoticeable flick. Yet, Sirius could feel anti-Disapparation wards come up.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," Remus said coldly.

"Remus, don't do this!" Sirius said desperately. "You don't understand!"

"What is there to understand?" Remus said bitterly. "You betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort. James and Lily, Sirius! How could you? They were your friends, they trusted you with their lives." He gave a humourless smile. "I suspected that you were the spy, you know. Ever since Peter showed me the Death Eater mask he found. I should have gone to Dumbledore, rather than give you the benefit of the doubt."

Sirius flinched as from a physical blow. Remus had suspected him? That hurt even more than the fact that Dumbledore thought him guilty. "Remus, I-"

"Step away from Harry," Remus said, his voice hard and flat.

"No, listen to me," Sirius pleaded. "I can explain-"

"Now."

"Remus-"

"Impellus!"

Years of Auror training saved Sirius from being knocked out by the curse. Instinctively, he gave the wand holster strapped to the underside of his forearm a silent command. It reacted instantly, spitting his wand out into his waiting hand.

"Protego!"

The jet of red light slammed into the magical barrier an inch from Sirius nose. He stumbled back a few steps from the shockwave of magical energy created by the dissipated hex. Harry fared worse, however. Some of the energy glanced him, and that was enough to knock him on his backside and wipe all the spells and charms that made up his disguise. Suddenly he was green-eyed and black-haired again, with the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Remus hesitated, staring aghast at the child. He had obviously not meant to harm Harry.

Sirius seized the moment. "Impedimenta!"

Werewolf-enhanced reflexes allowed Remus to bring up a shield in time, and Sirius had to dive to the left, to avoid being hit by his own reflected jinx. Remus followed up with a Stunner that he narrowly managed to block. A werewolf was a formidable opponent even for a fully trained Auror. He had to reach Harry so that they could use the Portkey and get out of here!

"Harry, come here!" Sirius shouted. "Expelliarmus!"

"No! Stay where you are!" Remus snapped, as he dodged the disarming charm and returned fire with a Blasting Curse.

Harry looked in confusion at Remus and Sirius. Hesitantly, he took a step in Sirius' direction.

"No!" Remus darted forward, firing off three Stunners in rapid succession.

"Contego!" A silvery shield appeared out of thin air, hovering in front of Sirius. The three red bolts of light struck it, producing an eerie shimmering sound. Almost before the stunners had finished dissipating, he let the shield dissolve, and sent a Tripping Jinx Remus' way. Remus stumbled and fell as something tugged at his feet, but again his excellent reflexes and agility came to his aid. Swiftly, he used his forward momentum to go into a roll, came up in a crouch and fired another Blasting Curse at Sirius. Sirius leaped to his right trying to avoid it, but was a little too slow. The red jet of light struck him in his left shoulder, the impact spinning him around in a half-circle, before sending him sprawling face-first on the ground. All breath disappeared from his lungs as the ground slammed into his chest.

Remus would have won the duel then and there, if Harry hadn't screamed: "Pa'foot!" and run over to where Sirius lay, thus putting himself between the two men.

"Harry, get away from him!" Remus shouted desperately, daring not to disarm or stun Sirius lest he hit the child.

Harry ignored the call and instead crouched beside Sirius who was still gasping for air. "Padfoot?" he asked, worriedly.

Sirius rolled on his side and grasped Harry's hand in his, while the other darted down into his pocket. He felt the familiar thug behind his navel, and then they were washed away in a swirl of colour.

For a tiny moment he felt relief, which tured to alarm as invisible forces seemed to pull them violently in two different directions simultaneously. Before his mind had time to properly process what this could mean, something seemed to snap and they abruptly landed hard in a dark and dusty room. Sirius lost his balance and the back of his head slammed into the floor. Sparks ignited in front of his eyes, and he shook his head in an effort to clear his vision.

Before he knew it, an unknown voice cried: "Stupefy!"

And then darkness claimed him.

III


	6. Escape

**Chapter 6: Escape**

"Enervate."

Sirius blinked confused as consciousness returned to him - and froze as he looked into the pale, pointed face of Lucius Malfoy.

"No sudden movements, please," Malfoy said, almost politely. He wore the superior smirk of a man who knew he had total control of the situation. Beside him, a man with broad shoulders and small, deep-set eyes shifted position slightly to better cover Sirius with his wand.

Sirius sat up slowly from the bunk he had been lying on. The Ministry had suspected Malfoy was a Death Eater, and the Order had _known_ he was - thanks to Snape's intelligence reports - but they had also been unable to prove it. According to the _Daily Prophet_, he had somehow managed to twist away from Azkaban by claiming to have been under the effect of the Imperius Curse and by selling out several of his former colleagues. He had also apparently rescued a few of his henchmen from the same fate. The broad-shouldered man - Goyle, Sirius thought his name was - was one of them.

"Where's Harry?" Sirius demanded. _And why did you keep me alive instead of just killing me?_

"The boy is in my custody," Malfoy said smoothly. "What I wish to know from _you_, however, is why you bothered kidnapping the boy instead of fleeing the country."

Sirius' thoughts raced. He couldn't come up with a reason why Malfoy would want him or – more importantly – Harry alive. But whatever that reason was, Sirius was certain it was the key to their survival.

"Why do you want to know?" he said, trying to stall for time.

Ice crept into Malfoy's eyes and voice. "We can do this one out of two ways, Black; either you can answer my questions voluntarily, or I can torture them out of you," he said flatly, and his wand appeared in his hand.

Sirius braced himself. "Why should I answer questions if you're just going to kill us afterwards?" he asked stubbornly.

"Crucio!"

Sirus had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse twice before while fighting for the Order, so he had known what was coming. That, however, didn't make the pain more bearable. Sirius screamed himself hoarse the first five seconds as he writhed on the bunk in agony. A fleeting thought wondered if he was going to end up like poor Frank and Alice Longbottom, then it was lost in the ocean of pain that rolled over him. After another fifteen seconds (Hours? Days? Years?), Malfoy finally lifted the curse.

Panting, Sirius shook his head to clear it and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He met Malfoy's eyes unflinchingly, refusing to speak first.

"I _may_ let you go," Malfoy said coldly after a few moments. "May. Now I'll ask you one more time; why did you kidnap the boy after the Dark Lord's downfall?"

Sirius had to struggle to keep his surprise from showing. Let him go? Why would a Death Eater let a member of the Order go, unless-

_Unless he thinks I am a Death Eater._

That made sense. Everyone from the Minister of Magic and down had declared Sirius to be one of Voldemort's minions, and no single Death Eater knew the identities of everyone else, so Malfoy couldn't be sure of anything.

"I kidnapped the boy because I needed a hostage," Sirius lied hoarsely. "I figured the Ministry and Dumbledore's Order would be more careful when they came after me."

"I see," Malfoy said, and Sirius tried very hard not to be unnerved by the cold and flatness in the Death Eater's eyes. "Why did you remain in the country, rather than flee?"

Sirius shrugged. "Most of what remains of my contacts are here in Britain," he said. "Besides, I know of a place that has ample protection from discovery by the Ministry."

Malfoy crocked a brow. "What kind of protection would that be?"

"The Fidelius Charm," he said and forced himself to smirk at the man. That was harder than he had thought.

"Ah." The corners of Malfoy's mouth quirked slightly. "And where is this hiding place of yours?"

Sirius shook a finger at him. "Don't ask. As some of your colleagues can testify, you're not very good at keeping secrets."

Luckily, Malfoy decided to be amused rather than angered by Sirius' refusal to answer the question. "Very well, I shall leave it at that... for now," he said and opened the door to leave.

Sirius let slowly out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. "So, what do you want with the boy?" he asked as casually he could.

"He's going to be a gift," Malfoy said, half turning in the doorway. "In case the Dark Lord returns."

Sirius' blood ran cold. The thought of little Harry in the hands of that power-hungry sociopath was just about the worst nightmare he could possibly conceive of.

_What on Earth do I do now?_ he thought, as Malfoy and Goyle left the room, locking the door safely behind them.

III

"D'you think he's telling the truth?" Goyle asked gruffly after putting a Locking Charm on the door.

"No," Lucius said simply, his mind busy elsewhere.

Goyle blinked. "No?" he said surprised. "But- his story sort of made sense, didn't it?"

Lucius hid a contemptuous smile; it wouldn't do to antagonize one of his few remaining allies. Goyle and Crabbe, another associate, might be lacking severely in the mental department, but they were very useful as muscle in certain situations.

"No," Lucius repeated firmly. "That story of his had two gaping logical holes. First, if Black wanted a hostage, why kidnap the one child that would guarantee the Ministry and the Order would come after him like the wrath of God? Second, any Death Eater who knew he couldn't arrange an alibi would flee the country, Fidelius Charm or no Fidelius Charm. Besides, any so-called 'contacts' he has will be far too busy keeping themselves out of Azkaban to help him, assuming they haven't already been caught. What we have here is a godfather who has been framed by Pettigrew."

Realization dawned in the normally dim eyes of Goyle, and Lucius changed the subject. "I want you to stand guard here. If Black tries to escape, you are free to use any force necessary except the Killing Curse. He may yet be useful to me."

Goyle nodded and Lucius turned and left, his black robes billowing around him.

III

"Damn."

Sirius stood with eyes squeezed shut and the palm of his hand pressed against the wall. Frowning in concentration he extended his magical senses beyond the wall, trying to find a weakness in the anti-Disapparation wards he could feel encompassing the entire building. Sighing, he stood back and gave the wall a disgusted look. Even if he _did_ find a weakness in the wards, there was very little he could do about it without a wand. Besides, if they were in the Malfoy Manor as he suspected, escaping wouldn't be an easy task even if he _did_ have a wand; that place was almost as well protected as Hogwarts. He looked around in the tiny room, despite knowing he hadn't overlooked anything. A single bunk. Bare, white walls. Nothing more.

Frustrated, Sirius ran a hand through his hair. He was scared to death over what Malfoy might be doing to Harry right now, and he wasn't at all certain that he'd managed to deceive the Death Eater. Damn it! He had already failed James and Lily once; he was _not_ going to do it again.

Determinately, he walked over to the door and hammered a first on it. "Hey, Goyle! Open up, I want a word with you!" he shouted, only half aware of what he was doing. He had always been better at thinking on his feet and improvising rather than planning, which had served him and James well the many times they were a hair from being given detention.

"What d'you want?" came Goyle's voice from the other side.

"Open up," Sirius repeated. "I'm not talking to a door!"

Somewhat to his surprise the door actually opened. Goyle gave him a suspicious look, carefully aiming his wand at Sirius' chest. "What?" he desmanded.

"I was just wondering; was it you who searched me and took my wand?"

Goyle grunted an affirmative and patted a pocket with his one free hand.

"Thanks," Sirius said cheerfully. "That's all I wanted to know." And with that, he headbutted Goyle right in the face.

Goyle stumbled back, clutching his broken nose with one hand and staring at Sirius as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. He opened his mouth to deliver a curse, but it died in an agonized whoop as a perfectly placed snap-kick exploded into his belly. He flew backward, crashing into the opposite wall before sliding down in a heap, his legs unable to carry him anymore. Drops of blood from his broken nose splattered on the floor. Goyle was still desperately fighting for breath when Sirius' lightning-fast spin-kick broke his right cheekbone.

Quickly, Sirius snatched Goyle's wand from the Death Eater's limp grasp. "Stupefy!" he hissed, and Goyle, who had been opening his mouth to deliver a desperate scream for help, slumped bonelessly.

For several tense moments, Sirius stood motionless, hoping that no one had heard the sound of fighting or that a ward hadn't detected the magical discharges from Goyle's wand. After a while he breathed out and grinned at the fallen Death Eater.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" he muttered. Swiftly, he grabbed Goyle by the collar and dragged him back into the room.

Death Eaters and other dark wizards and witches were usually so full of scorn over anything Muggle that they tended to spurn their physical conditioning, and almost none had any idea how to fight Muggle-style. That was one of the major reasons the Auror Academy trained their students in basic hand-to-hand. Sirius had taken that several steps further, however, and very few people knew of the private lessons he had received from the Academy's unarmed combat instructor.

Sirus searched Goyle's pockets and found his wand. He then broke Goyle's wand - not without a certain amount of satisfaction - and kicked the pieces under the bunk.

"Sleep tight," he said sweetly, before closing the door after him and putting a dozen locking charms on it.

_Now to find Harry._

III

From beneath the invisibility cloak that every Auror was issued with, Jennifer Palmer kept a careful eye on the Malfoy Manor. Her ice-blue eyes never rested, never allowing themselves to stop searching for something, _anything_ that might be out of the ordinary. They had no hard evidence to back it up with, but the Auror Corps were fairly certain Malfoy had been a willing minion of the late Dark Lord. So they had put him and his mansion under covert twenty-four hour surveillance, although the chance that they'd find something worth sending him to Azkaban for was slim. It had taken a week of effort to find out how far the wards that protected the Malfoy Mansion extended, but now Jennifer was certain she was nearly immune to discovery from her hiding place in the dark woods to the southeast.

The tickling sensation the warning-spell suddenly sent up her spine made her stiffen in alarm, but she relaxed almost instantly and glanced at her watch. Her relief were scheduled to arrive just about now.

She heard a tiny pop somewhere to her left, and a disembodied male voice said: "Jen?"

"Over here, Kingsley," she whispered back, without taking her eyes of the mansion.

Jennifer more felt than heard the young Auror kneel by her side. "Anything new?"

"Not since that Portkey-signature a while ago."

"Still no luck in tracing it, then?"

"Not from this distance." She rose and stretched stiff muscles. "Well, I'll be off. Good watch."

One 'pop' later Kingsley Shacklebolt was alone.

III

Hidden by a Disillusionment Charm, Sirius made his way down the corridor as silent as a wraith. There was a T-intersection straight ahead, and Sirius paused to wonder which way to turn. Malfoy Mansion was enormous and Harry could be almost anywhere.

Soft footsteps were the only warning he had. Sirius pressed himself flat against the wall, ready to stun whoever those feet belonged to. Malfoy appeared briefly in the intersection, strolling past the corridor Sirius was in with the characteristic cold arrogance the more aristocratic wizarding families tended to display. The Death Eater frowned, obviously deep in thought, and didn't seem to notice Sirius.

Sirius carefully let out the breath he had been holding as Malfoy disappeared from sight, and tried to force his beating heart to calm down. Quietly he moved closer to the corner and strained his hearing. The footsteps continued for a few seconds, stopped, and then he heard the sound of a door opening and closing.

He peeked around the corner and found the corridor deserted. Swiftly, he darted to the first door and pressed an ear to the dark wood.

"Is this the child?" came Malfoy's voice.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy," said an oily voice Sirius didn't recognize. "Allow me to introduce you to Harry Potter."

"Pa'foot!" Harry demanded, and Sirius had to grin despite the situation.

_Padfoot's coming, kid._

There was silence for a few seconds, then: "Who or what is 'Pafoot'?" Malfoy asked.

"Dunno," said a gruff voice. "Pet maybe?"

"Well, at any rate, you shouldn't have used a Portkey to travel here, Borgin," Malfoy said. "I suspect the Ministry have me under surveillance, and if that's the case they are bound to pick up a Portkey-signature."

"I apologize, Mr Malfoy," said the oily voice, "but I had to act quickly if I were to set up the Portkey-redirector and secure this prize for you. I had to run quite a substantial risk myself."

"Yes, yes, yes. You'll be rewarded for your services," Malfoy said somewhat annoyed. "Come with me."

Sirius barely had time to dodge around the nearest corner before the door went up.

"This way," he heard Malfoy say. "It's the quickest route to my office."

Sirius listened until he could no longer hear their footsteps, and then waited another thirty seconds to be sure they were gone. He looked around the corner and found the coast clear. Quickly he walked past the window to his right, glancing out of it momentarily. It was already dark outside, so he must have been unconscious for several hours.

The question was, what did he do now? There was at least one man still inside the room and he had to be silenced quickly, before Malfoy returned. However, the risk that a stray curse might hit Harry during the duel was too great for Sirius to accept. He needed a distraction, something that would give him a second or two of surprise…

Ah. Of course.

Grinning, he removed the Disillusionment Charm and got to work.

III

"Damn," Kingsley swore mildly from his hiding place.

He had used a vision enchantment spell on his eyes - the effect was similar to Muggle binoculars - and now he was glad he had. The man he'd briefly seen through a window in the mansion had stared back at him from countless 'wanted'-posters over the last six months.

Kingsley quickly did a 'Finite Incantatem' on his eyes and reached into his pocket to take out a communications-mirror, fumbling slightly with it in his eagerness.

"Moody," he called, remembering at the last moment to keep his voice down.

The distorted reflection altered, changing into the scared face of Alastor Moody, who was the Auror currently on watch. "Yes?"

"Sir, I just saw Sirius Black inside the Malfoy Mansion," Kingsley reported.

Moody's one normal eye narrowed. "Inside? You sure?"

"Positive. On the second floor."

Moody nodded. "Stay where you are. We are sending reinforcements."

III

It was a good thing he'd had so much practice disguising himself. After using an assortment of charms and spells, Sirius had now become passable imitation of Goyle. At least, that's what he hoped. He didn't have a mirror, and only a few minutes to alter his features. Hopefully that would be enough; he only needed a few seconds of hesitation from the man guarding Harry.

"Pa'foot!" Harry insisted from the other side of the door.

"Oh shut up, you brat. Silenco!"

Sirius squared his shoulders, knocked once on the door, then opened and walked inside. The man – Sirius recognized him as Crabbe - turned in surprise from the sofa where Harry sat shouting something soundlessly through the silencing charm.

"What are you doing here?" Crabbe demanded gruffly. He had only half-raised his wand when Sirius entered; now he let his hand fall. "Aren't you supposed to be guarding Black?"

"Incarcerous!"

Crabbe was quick, but not quick enough. The spell caught him by surprise, and thick ropes appeared out of thin air to wrap themselves around the Death Eater.

"Silenco!" Sirius snapped, silencing him even as he fell struggling to the floor. Sirius summoned Crabbe's wand and broke it, before he removed his disguise with a flick of his own.

Harry jumped up from the sofa and ran over to him, shrieking in delight. He tried to shriek, at least; the Silencing Charm was still on him, and Sirius decided to leave it for now as not to alert Malfoy. He gathered Harry up in his arms, shut the door and put a Locking Charm on it. The ploy had worked and now they had to get out of here - and fast. He walked swiftly across the room to a large window overlooking the grounds outside the mansion, and carefully moved the curtain a fraction of an inch to peek outside. It was too dark to see much, although he could make out the gates and an occasional tree. With all the wards that protected his mansion, Sirius rather doubted Malfoy would be paranoid enough to put guards outside, too. Still, that didn't mean that someone might see them through a window and take a shot on them as they ran for it.

Suddenly, the gates slammed open, and three figures stormed across the grounds. Almost immediately a bone-rattling wail penetrated the air, and multi-coloured flashes of light outside spoke of wards being torn down by the intruders. Harry looked around alarmed from his vantage point in the crook of Sirius' left arm, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Sirius followed the three running figures with his eyes until they reached the large double-doors of the Malfoy Mansion. One of them raised his or her wand, and there was a blood-red flash followed by a dull explosion as the doors were blasted into toothpicks. Almost immediately the trio stormed past the rubble and into the mansion.

_Talk about heaven-sent distraction,_ Sirius thought. He tapped his forehead with his wand and shuddered slightly from the feeling of cold running down his body, as the Disillusionment Charm took effect. Then he did the same to Harry, who smiled at the new game and curiously examined his disillusioned hands.

"Reducto!"

The window exploded outwards, sending glittering pieces of glass sailing out into the darkness. Sirius gestured quickly with his wand, casting a Cushioning Charm at the ground bellow. "Hold on, Harry," he muttered, and then he jumped. The cool night air breezed past them for a few seconds, before they hit the charm and bounced once.

Sirius got to his feet and broke into a dead run, Harry a light burden in his arms. The intruders - whoever they were - hadn't wasted time destroying the exceedingly powerful anti-Disapparating wards, something which would have taken even Dumbledore as much as twenty minutes. He and Harry had to reach the edge of the wards before they could safely Disapparate away.

"Stop!" came a whip-crack command from behind them.

Sirius cursed viciously. The adrenaline flooding through his system gave him an extra burst of speed as he dodged around a large bush, putting it between them and the mansion. His heart jumped when a bright red pulse of light shot past them so close he felt the residual magic trying to make his hair stand up. Swiftly he cast a spell that created an invisible barrier behind them. It wasn't much, but better than nothing.

Ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs, he ran past a statue of a long-dead Malfoy, just as a silver jet of light blew the statue's head off. A stone splinter dug into his right calf, but he ignored it and ran on. Suddenly remembering a favourite trick of James', Sirius gestured with his wand over his shoulder and gasped: "Dissimulo!" His wand belched out huge amounts of black smoke, creating a large cloud behind them. Smiling triumphantly, he pocketed his wand. The gates were right ahead and he doubted the wards would extend for much longer.

A split-second later, a Stunner smashed into the barrier protecting their backs. Sirius stumbled from the impact and fell, twisting to his left so that he wouldn't land on top of Harry. His shoulder took most of the impact, sending a spike of pain through his nervous system. They skidded for a few feet before coming to a halt. Sirius shook his head and looked up at Harry, who was saddling his chest and giggling. He staggered back to his feet and resumed running, trying not to move his right arm too much.

_That's going to leave a mighty big bruise,_ he thought distantly. _Too bad I won't be able to show the ladies that. And how in the nine hells did they see through all that smoke?_

Then, as sudden as the stunner that had nearly knocked him out, he felt the liberating sensation as he ran through the edge of the anti-Disapparating wards. With a gasp of relief he and Harry vanished with a sharp crack.

III

"What happened after you refused to grant Sirius Black sanctuary in your home?"

"He threatened to murder both me and my two good friends, Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle," Malfoy said to the assembled Elders of the Wizengamot. Most of them looked sympathetic over the thought of having a Death Eater breaking into their homes. Except for a few. One of them was Elder Albus Dumbledore. His face wore no expression whatsoever as his blue eyes bored into Malfoy's, putting his considerable skills in Legimency into use.

_Lie,_ he concluded.

"I, of course, feared for my life at this point," Malfoy continued smoothly from where he sat in the centre of the room. "He looked rather desperate and he had after all already assaulted Mr Goyle - who is still at St Mungo's - and captured Mr Crabbe."

_Truth?_

"I was especially afraid that he'd use the Imperius Curse and force my cooperation." Malfoy shook his head sadly. "After all, I know from bitter experience that I'm unable to resist it."

_Lie._

Elder Sanders, the bald-headed questioner on the rostrum, nodded in sympathy. "And what happened next, Mr Malfoy?"

"I had a stroke of luck. The Aurors who were holding my mansion under surveillance -" he smiled wryly and some of the Elders chuckled "- must obviously have seen Black through a window, because they came storming in just a few seconds later. Unfortunately, Black heard their rather dramatic entrance and fled."

_Truth._

"Just one final question," Sanders said. "You said earlier that Black had Mr Harry Potter with him. Could you please tell us what condition he was in?"

"Yes, Mr Potter was there," Malfoy said with a pained expression, the very picture of a man who would have given anything to alter the truth. "And I am sorry to say that his condition was... miserable. The child looked both mal- and undernourished, and he was covered in bruises. Judging by how he favoured his right side, I think that he also had a broken rib. What frightened me the most, however, were his eyes. He didn't look sad or anything of the sort, he just stared emptily ahead of himself." He sighed dramatically. "I wish I could have stopped Black from escaping with Mr Potter, but he hit me with a Blasting Cruse when the Aurors broke in. By the time I came to my senses, he had swept the child up into his arms and jumped out the window."

_Both truth and lie,_ Albus thought and frowned in annoyance. Malfoy was simply too good at Occlumency to find the truth with passive Legilimency. He was definitely hiding something, though

Sanders nodded grimly. "Thank you for testifying in this hearing, Mr Malfoy. We shall not take up any more of you valuable time."

Malfoy bowed graciously. "My simple duty as a wizard, sir."

Most of the Elders gathered up their notes and got up to leave, while a few remained sitting to talk to a colleague. Elder Sanders smiled jovially and stepped down to have a few words with Malfoy.

"Well, what do you think, Dumbledore?"

Albus released his mental control and turned to his left, to the scarred man sitting beside him. "Very much the same as you, I expect. An excellent mixture of truth and lie. I do wonder, however, why Sirius went to Lucius Malfoy."

Mad-eye was looking at Albus, but his magical eye was locked on Malfoy. "I suppose he thought an old colleague would be more forthcoming with help. So much for Death Eater solidarity," he snorted contemptuously. His magical eye swirled around to stare at Albus. "What about that last part? Do you think it is true that Black is abusing the boy?"

Albus grimaced at the pain that lanced through his heart. "I don't know, Alastor," he admitted in a whisper. "I hope not."

Unfortunately, he suspected it _was_ true. Abuse was exactly the weapon a Death Eater would reach for if he wanted to break someone to his will. Albus had to strangle an impulse to march over to Malfoy and use a more... intrusive version of Legimency in full view of dozens of witnesses. Or perhaps just force-feed him Veritaserum. But no, that would be as foolish as disastrous. He didn't know why a Sirius had fallen from the Light, but Albus Dumbledore would have to be patient if he were to find Harry Potter.

III


	7. The Greatest Wizard of the Age

**Chapter 7: The Greatest Wizard of the Age**

**15th April, 1985**

Sirius carefully moved the razor down his chin, removing the last of the stubble. He ran a hand over his chin and examined his face in the mirror, feeling for any stubble he had missed. Satisfied, he put the razor down and grabbed a towel to wipe off the remaining shaving foam. Shaving Muggle-style instead of just using a charm had been one more way of rebelling against his pureblood parents when he was young. Sirius grinned wryly, as he remembered his mother's reaction when she came across him in the bathroom, shaving - with a _Muggle razor!_ For a few wonderful moments, he'd allowed himself to hope she'd have a heart failure. Unfortunately, dear old Mum had survived the ordeal.

Dabbling on his face with the towel, he turned toward the raven-haired boy in the bathroom door, who had been following every move of the razor with intense concentration. Still in his pyjamas, four year-old Harry Potter was a bit too small for his age - he seemed to take after his father in that aspect, who didn't begin to really shoot up until his mid-teens.

Now the boy fixed his green-eyed gaze at him. "Sirius, are we out of money?"

Sirius stopped. "What makes you say that?" he asked guardedly.

"'Cause I looked in that bag you keep under your bed, and we are nearly out."

Sirius put the towel back on its peg. The boy seemed to be more perceptive than he had thought. "Look; I don't want you to worry about this, okay? I promise we are not going to starve. Now go put some clothes on, and I'll make breakfast."

Harry nodded. "Okay." What Padfoot promised would happen; that was one of the facts of life as far as he was concerned. Turning, he walked back to his room.

Sirius went down the stairs to the first floor and entered the kitchen, deep in thought. The truth was that they _were_ out of money. The gold he had taken out of Gringotts was all but used up. The obvious solution would be to secure an income, but how could he do that? Since he was a wanted man in the Wizarding world, he couldn't just apply for a job, and he knew too little about the Muggle world to try there. It was something of a dilemma, and Sirius didn't know how to solve it.

With a few casual waves of his wand, the bacon jumped into the frying pan by itself. He was still pondering when Harry came down the stairs fully dressed and sat down at the kitchen table.

Sirius looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Money wasn't the only concern they had. The boy spent nearly his entire time in Padfoot's Den, and he really needed to be around kids his own age. Harry was already a quiet kid and since they lived mostly in isolation, Sirius worried over how he'd handle social situations once he got older. Schooling wasn't the problem; most wizarding families home-schooled their children until they went to Hogwarts.

On impulse, Sirius went into the living room and opened a drawer in his writing desk. It was completely empty, save for a single letter addressed to Remus Lupin. He just stood there looking at it for a while, making no move to take it. That was the letter that he had intended to send Remus almost four years earlier, only to have the misfortune of running into old Moony before he reached the Owl Office in Diagon Alley. The duel that ensured was something he'd rather not think about, but he couldn't help but remember the accusations that had hurt him more than Malfoy had with the Cruciatus Curse.

"_You betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort. James and Lily, Sirius! How could you? They were your friends, they trusted you with their lives … I suspected that you were the spy, you know. Ever since Peter showed me the Death Eater mask he found. I should have gone to Dumbledore rather than give you the benefit of the doubt."_

Sirius gave himself a shake and determinedly picked up the letter. Finding Wormtail had been pushed further and further down his list of priorities as Harry grew older, and he had postponed sending the letter for nearly four years. Perhaps that was enough. Moony couldn't help it after all. All evidence _did_ point toward Sirius.

"Sirius?" Harry called from the kitchen.

"What is it, Harry?" Sirius asked distractedly.

"Um, is the bacon _supposed_ to turn black?"

Sirius dropped the letter. "Shit!"

Racing back to the kitchen, he found that what had once been their breakfast now resembled coal more than anything else, sending clouds of smoke toward the ceiling. Swiftly, he lifted the frying pan off the fire to put it in the sink. Unfortunately, it collided with a stack of dishes he had yet to wash, somehow twisted out of his grip and landed on his foot.

"Ow!"

Jumping around the kitchen on one foot, Sirius snarled several choice words at the offensive frying pan. He pulled out his wand from his back pocket and used magic to levitate the damned thing to the sink.

"Scourgify!" he growled at what remained of the bacon, banishing it instantly.

Sirius stopped as his eyes fell upon Harry, who was silently mouthing something with unfocused eyes. The boy suddenly became aware he was being stared at, abruptly ceased whatever he was doing and looked back at him with an innocent expression. Sirius frowned nonplussed; Harry couldn't possibly have been memorizing his cursing?

No… of course not.

III

In Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Severus Snape was not having a good day. He marched into his office with a ferocious scowl; his black robes billowed dramatically around him. He slammed the door shut with a resounding bang, stomped over to his desk and tossed a stack of papers down on it carelessly; sixth-year essays about the effects of dragon blood in an infusion of hellebore and fluxweed.

Severus' lips twisted in a sour grimace at the thought of grading those essays. As much as he loved potions-making, he absolutely loathed _teaching_ it. He was a Potions _Master_ for Merlin's sake! Where was the challenge in teaching potions he knew how to brew in his sleep by his second year?

Snorting contemptuously, he sat down heavily in his comfortable armchair. Of course, the fact that his talents weren't being put to use was old news, and responsible for only part of his anger. No, most of it was directed at _Potter_.

Severus barred his teeth in a bitter smile. It was so ironic; no sooner was the loathsome bastard of a father dead, before the son took over in their efforts to make Severus miserable – and he hadn't even met the boy yet! For years, both he and many other members of the Order of the Phoenix had spent a considerable amount of their spare time chasing after that damned boy - Severus no longer had time for potions research or any other pursuits.

He opened a drawer and took out a folder full of newspaper clippings from the _Daily Prophet_. With a sour grimace, he read the headline: 'No trace of Sirius Black or the Boy Who Lived.'

Severus' ecstasy at the Dark Lord's downfall had been tainted from the start by the knowledge that it was Potter's son who had accomplished that. He ground his teeth at the thought. Even from beyond the grave that insufferably arrogant _bastard_ managed to get in the last word! Yet, Severus could have accepted that - not happily, but he could have accepted it - and moved on... if not for the ludicrous reverence everyone spoke of the boy with. Why, some moron at the Ministry had proposed naming the day of the Dark Lord's defeat the 'Harry Potter Day!'

Angrily, he jumped up from the armchair and began pacing. It was _he_ who had spent years spying upon the Dark Lord! It was _he_ who had risked death by torture to provide the Light with information! And what had the brat done? Nothing! He had just sat there, utterly defenceless - and then _something_ unconceivable had happened... and Harry Potter had suddenly become the most famous boy on Earth.

It was ridiculous! It was prosperous! It was _unfair!_

Severus stopped and forced himself to breath deeply and evenly. He already felt like breaking something, and it wouldn't do to trash his own office.

Albus had convinced him to keep Severus' career as a spy secret. The Dark Lord hadn't been destroyed, after all - not completely. He would return, and then Severus' services would be required again.

He shook his head of those thoughts. Severus had owed James Potter a life debt, and now that he was dead, that debt had been transferred to _Harry_ Potter. But how the _hell_ was Severus supposed to protect the brat if he didn't even know where he was?

"Damn you, Potter!" he whispered fervently at the empty room. He wasn't sure which Potter he referred to, and didn't much care. "Damn you!"

III

Casually, Sirius stepped inside the Owl Office with Harry - currently a brown-eyed redhead - by his side. He wasn't particularly afraid of being caught by the Ministry or the Order; they had been to Diagon Alley several times since that fateful encounter with Remus. Yet, Sirius had been as meticulous as always when crafting their disguises.

He walked over to the counter facing the entrance. "I'd like to rent an owl to carry this letter to Mr. Remus Lupin," he said to the youth standing behind it.

"Yes, sir," the young wizard said and made a notation in a notebook. "Local or long distance?"

"Local."

"Name?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "I prefer to remain anonymous."

If the young man was surprised, he didn't show it. "That'll be eight Sickles, thank you."

Sirius paid him and handed him the letter. They stayed long enough to see the man fasten it to an owl and send it out of the window.

_Now I can only hope Remus will believe me,_ he thought as they left.

Manoeuvring through the crowd, Sirius glanced down at Harry, who actually managed to stare around with wide eyes and flinch from the noise at the same time. He almost twisted his head off when he tried to follow a very wild-looking witch with his eyes. Seconds later, he cringed when a group of particularly loud warlocks walked past, discussing an article in _Transfiguration Today_.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked.

"There is so much _noise_," Harry complained. "Why do they have to be so loud?"

_Yes, he definitely needs to get out more,_ Sirius thought. "Look, let me just buy a newspaper, then we'll stop by Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour."

Harry readily agreed, and a few minutes later they were sitting under a parasol with each their multi-coloured triple ice cream sprinkled with chocolate. Sirius was paging through the _Daily Prophet_. Due to obvious reasons, they couldn't have it delivered to Padfoot's Den, so except for their occasional visits to Diagon Alley, they had no way of knowing what went on in the wizarding world.

_Hmm, the Ministry is slowing down Auror recruitment efforts. Fools. A few years of peace and they think they are safe,_ Sirius thought in annoyance and turned the page. _If anyone can survive being hit by a rebounded Killing Curse it will be Voldem - ohoi!_

The caption on the next page captured his attention more efficiently than if the entire Order of the Phoenix had descended upon him:

**The Black Family comes to an end**

_Yesterday, Mrs Lalande Cygnus Black died unexpectedly in an explosion of unknown origin in the Black Mansion. The Blacks are one of the wizarding world's oldest pureblood families, and the Black Family Fortune, while unspecified, is said to be one of the largest in Britain. Unfortunately, in later years this noble family, who were once a pillar of Britain's magical community, has gained a poor and undeserved reputation due to the actions of the notorious Death Eater, Sirius Orion Black…_

Sirius snorted contemptuously. Very few people knew that his mother had been dabbling in Necromancy; an obscure branch of the Dark Arts that dealt with reanimating dead bodies. No magic could truly raise the dead, of course. The best a Necromancer could do was creating mindless zombies, so-called 'Inferi', who obeyed orders without question.

One of the backdraws of that particular kind of magic was that the spells and charms were highly volatile, and probably the source of the explosion.

_Well, good riddance, you old hag,_ Sirius thought with scorn. He skimmed the rest of the article that consisted of equal parts rehash of his 'crimes' and pretty words dedicated to his so-called family.

…_Mrs Black leaves no Will…_

Sirius sat up straight, eyes narrowing as he re-read that sentence. She hadn't written a Will? But that meant… that meant that according to wizarding law, the entire Black fortune would automatically go to the oldest surviving heir.

In this case, him.

He put down the _Daily Prophet_ and considered. He had never been very interested in money, but if he could gain access to the Black fortune, their current money problem would be solved forever. Both he and Harry could live comfortably of it for the rest of their lives if they so chose – and so could their great-grandchildren for that matter.

Of course, first he'd have to visit Gringotts. The Goblins rarely cared who their costumer was, as long as he had the key and all the charms on it were intact. They probably wouldn't even bother to check who the vault belonged to. Still, it was a risk to take.

But in the end, they didn't have much of a choice.

"Are you finished, Harry? Good. We'll just stop by at Gringotts for a moment, and then we'll visit Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"Yes!" Harry jumped up from his chair, eager to go. Ever since Sirius had told him about Quidditch, he'd wanted to learn everything there was to know about the game.

They swiftly made their way through the crowd and entered the Goblin-run bank. Right outside the entrance an old warlock with a short, grey beard was having a conversation with a younger, brown-haired witch. Neither Sirius nor Harry paid them any heed as they stepped through the doors of burnished bronze. The two Goblins standing guard in the entrance chamber opened the silver doors for them as they approached. Sirius and Harry walked over to the nearest free accordant.

"What can I help you with, sir?" the Goblin asked, pushing his spectacles higher up on his nose. Harry seemed to have a hard time not to stare. He had never seen a Goblin except on photographs.

"My new job requires me to spend a considerable amount of time in the Muggle world," Sirius lied. "I was wondering if there is any way to access my vault through a Muggle bank?"

"Certainly, sir," the Goblin replied. "Are you familiar with how to use a Muggle bank account?"

"I am," Sirius confirmed, having seen Lily withdraw money from a Muggle bank, once.

"Then I can set up a bank account that will appear normal to any Muggle, except that every time you make a withdrawal, the corresponding amount in wizarding money will be taken from your vault."

"I'd like one such account, thank you," Sirius said and handed the Goblin his vault-key for inspection. "One thing, however; what is Gringotts privacy policy in such cases?"

"Our privacy policy is total, sir," the Goblin explained with a superior smirk. "Once per year we inform the Ministry of the total amount of gold in your vault for taxation purposes, but whatever transactions you perform is solely your own business."

The Goblin gave him several forms he had to fill out and sign, but after fifteen minutes they were done and could leave.

"How old do I have to be before I can have a broom?" Harry asked excitedly as they left the main hall behind them, yet carefully avoiding using Sirius' name. "I mean a proper broom, not one of those that only hover a few feet off the ground."

They stepped through the outer doors, and into the sunshine in Diagon Alley. Sirius squinted against the bright light.

"Well-"

"Hello, Sirius," an familiar voice suddenly said.

Sirius came to a halt so abruptly, Harry almost stumbled and fell. The man who had said his name was the old warlock with the grey beard he had noticed on the way in. Beside him, the witch he had been talking to was staring disapprovingly at Sirius. Before Sirius could think of anything to do, or indeed even react to the fear which suddenly made his blood run cold, the witch gave an almost unnoticeable flick with her wand, and he could feel anti-Disapparation wards go up.

Instinctively, Sirius grabbed Harry's hand in his, while his other hand darted down into his pocket. Before he had more than halfway completed the motion, however, the warlock already had his wand out and snapped: "Accio Portkeys!"

The handle of a broken teacup and a tiny stone flew out of Sirius' and Harry's pockets, respectively, and landed at the stranger's feet. The warlock nodded in satisfaction, and with a few deft wand-movements, his beard changed colour from grey to silvery white and grew down to his waist, his eyes changed from brown to blue, and his nose grew considerably longer and more crocked. Lastly, he pulled out a pair of half-moon spectacles from a pocket and put them on his nose.

Radiating the intense power and authority that had made countless people declare him to be the greatest and most powerful wizard of the age, Albus Dumbledore stood before them. Standing to one side, Minerva McGonagall - who had been the witch - looked almost inconsequential next to the mighty scorcher. A ring of onlookers, having quickly identified the Headmaster, was rapidly gathering to see what was going on.

"Hello, Sirius," Albus repeated pleasantly, although the twinkle in his eyes were conspicuously absent. "When I read in the _Daily Prophet_ that your mother had so unexpectedly passed away without leaving a will, I suspected that you might be desperate enough to claim the Black fortune. Being on the run from the Ministry tend to make it difficult to apply for a job and secure an income, after all."

Sirius kicked himself for being a fool. Of course Albus would be able to reach the same conclusion! The man might sometimes behave as if he were two steps away from senility, but as everyone who knew him could testify, there was nothing wrong with that razor-sharp mind. But how on Earth had he seen through their disguises?

"You are no doubt wondering how I was able to see through you disguises," Albus continued conversationally, startling Sirius slightly. "Don't worry; they were perfect. Minerva and I have simply been standing outside here all day, saying 'Hello, Sirius' to every man leaving Gringotts with a child in tow until we found one who flinched - and doubtless looking like a pair of fools in the process."

Sirius looked around desperately for a way out. The circle of onlookers had fallen back a little, and words like 'Death Eater' and 'Sirius Black' were being muttered along them. Most had made the obvious connection and pointed excitedly at Harry.

It would take several seconds to tear down the wards Albus had erected, even a quick-and-dirty job such as this. Meanwhile, Albus would have plenty of time to erect a new set of wards, or simply just stun him. Although he had completed two out of three years of his Auror training, Sirius was not arrogant enough to believe he could defeat _Albus Dumbledore_ in a duel.

They were trapped.

"It's over, Sirius," Albus said solemnly. "Give it up."

Any resistance might just end up injuring Harry, and Sirius' shoulders slumped in defeat. Harry would be taken away from him, now, while Sirius himself would be sent to Azkaban. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was the former that scared him the most.

III

While these bitter thoughts ran through Sirius' mind, a pair of emerald eyes paid close attention to the exchange between the two men. Harry had seen pictures of and heard stories about Albus Dumbledore, but he had never thought the ancient, grandfatherly wizard could be so _scary_. Instinctively, he stepped closer to his godfather. While young, he wasn't stupid, and he knew that the only possible reason why Sirius hadn't Disapparated them both had to be because there were wards in place.

He glanced nervously at the onlookers who had gathered. Harry knew that bad men were after them - Death Eaters, Sirius called them - and for some stupid reason he didn't completely understand, the Aurors wanted to send Sirius to Azkaban. Perhaps they were already here?

Harry let go of Sirius' hand and tugged at his robes.

Sirius looked down at him with wary and defeated eyes. "Yeah, Harry?"

"Can you remove the wards?" Harry whispered so only Sirius heard.

"Sure I can," Sirius whispered back. "But Albus will stun me before we can Disapparate."

A plan born of desperation formed in Harry's mind, and he gulped nervously. "Just remove the wards, and I'll take care of the rest."

"But-"

"Trust me."

Sirius gave him a strange look. "Alright, Harry."

Sirius hand slid slowly down into his pocket. The old witch who stood beside Dumbledore raised her wand immediately.

"Don't try anything, Mr Black," she said sharply. "There's no way you can defeat both of us."

Dumbledore, however, looked completely relaxed, and Harry gulped again. This was insane! The old wizard could probably transform him into a toad, or something worse. Like a snail, perhaps. Or an insect. An annoying little insect he could squash under his boot. Harry gave himself a shake to clear his head of the panicked thoughts.

He heard Sirius whisper an incantation, and there was a flash like from a camera, followed by a crackle of magical energy from the collapsing wards. Dumbledore reacted like lightning given mortal form. His wand came up in a blur, and he snapped: "Stupefy!" Harry barely had time to react.

By throwing himself in front of Sirius and into the path of the oncoming bolt of red light.

The stunner slammed into Harry's chest, and he felt something snap inside him. The sheer force of the normally harmless hex lifted him off his feet and threw him backwards. He got a brief glimpse of the expression of utter horror on Dumbledore's face before he collided with Sirius and darkness overtook him.

III

After a decade of war against Voldemort and his butchers, there was very little that could frighten Albus Dumbledore anymore. Well, right now he was terrified out of his mind, as he stood there staring at the spot Sirius and Harry had Disapparated from. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he tore his gaze away to meet Minerva's pained eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Albus," she said softly.

"I- I know, Minerva," he stuttered. "I just didn't know- I didn't think- that Harry would do _that._"

"Me neither," Minerva said sorrowfully and pocketed her wand. "Sirius Black must have told him lies. Twisted him."

Her words carried easily over the crowd. The onlookers who had watched the confrontation were utterly silent, and just as shocked as Albus. He glanced at the spot where they had been only seconds earlier. Sirius was a very powerful wizard, so Albus had put everything he had into that stunner. Hitting someone as young as Harry was likely to send the boy into a coma or magically cripple him. The thought of having accidentally done that to _any_ child was terrifyingly enough, but in this case there was also Sibyll's prophecy to consider.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies, _Albus quoted in his mind. _Great Merlin, I may have doomed us all._

III

_Ennervate! Ennervate! Damn, it doesn't work! Harry? Please wake up!_

The desperation in that voice cut into Harry's heart, and he struggled feebly against the blanket of sleep that held him. He tried to give some sort of sign that he was all right but he was so dreadfully tired. He needed to rest little, first…

_Harry, can you hear me? Come on, you've been sleeping for hours._

Harry _knew_ that voice, and he knew it would always help him, no matter what. He tried to force his eyes open to no avail. He felt himself drift away to that warm and safe place, again…

_It's time to wake up now, Harry. You've been out for two full days, now. Can you hear me, Harry?_

The voice sounded tired, now. Tired and so very worried. He tried to make a sound or lift a finger, but it was so difficult. It was like the entire world was weighing him down. He just needed to rest a little more, first…

_Harry… Come on, wake up…_

It was difficult to think, but Harry finally managed to fight off the darkness and force his eyelids up a quarter of the way. A blurry shape was looming over him.

"Harry?" a hopeful voice said.

"Mmmh."

"Ennervate!"

Most of the fog clouding his mind evaporated. Blinking, he looked up into his godfather's unshaven face. He tried to sit up but found that his entire body was numb and wouldn't respond properly.

"Take it easy, you are probably still feeling the after-effects from that stunner," Sirius said and helped him to sit up in bed, back puffed up against a pair of pillows. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry said hoarsely, looking around and realizing that he was back home in his bed. "Chest aches, though."

"Not strange at all. Dumbledore's stunner broke one of your ribs. I healed it, but your chest is still going to hurt for a few days more." Sirius fumbled in his pocket and drew out his wand. "Here, take my wand and give it a swish," he said nervously.

"Why?"

"Just take it!" Sirius snapped.

Harry took the wand and swished, causing a few red, blue and green sparks to fly out of its tip.

Sirius let out a huge breath and rubbed his face with a hand. "Thank Merlin, you can still do magic." he muttered. Abruptly he seized Harry's shoulders and shook him.

"WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS WERE YOU THINKING, HARRY? ARE YOU INSANE?"

Harry flinched from the outburst. Sirius had never shouted at him before.

Sirius let go of him and began pacing back and forth, gesturing animatedly.

"YOU'VE BEEN OUT FOR THREE DAYS, HARRY! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU? YOU COULD HAVE GONE INTO A COMA! YOU COULD HAVE HAD YOUR MAGICAL ABILITIES BURNED OUT OF YOU! HELL, YOU COULD HAVE HAD A _HEART FAILURE!_"

He stopped pacing and let out an explosive: "WHY?"

"Because otherwise, the Ministry would have sent you away," Harry said in a tiny voice.

Sirius' shoulders slumped a little, and suddenly he just looked dreadfully tired. "But why did you have to throw yourself into the path of that stunner, of all things?" he asked in a more normal voice. "Do you have any idea what kind of risk you took?"

"It was all I could come up with," he tried to explain, near tears. Sirius had never before been mad at him, and it scared him badly. "They would have taken you from me. Who would take care of me, then?"

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "I know, but- You almost paid a catastrophic price, Harry. I'd rather go to Azkaban than see you accidentally turn yourself into a squib." He sat down on Harry's bed, and hugged him close. "I want you to promise me you'll never do something like that again."

"I can't do that, Padfoot," Harry whispered brokenly against Sirius' chest. "You're all I have."

III


	8. The Start of Learning

**Chapter 8: The Start of Learning**

**31st July 1988**

"_...happy birthday, dear Harry! Happy birthday to y-_ stop that!"

Giving one last mock-whimper, Harry removed his hands from his ears as his godfather's singing came to a merciful end. He heaved a theatrical sigh and pulled on an earlobe as if wondering if his ears were still attached.

"Oh, come on! I don't sing that poorly," Sirius protested from where he sat with a ridiculous, pointed paper-hat on his head. The room was lit up brilliantly with dozens of floating candles and paper lanterns, and a large banner floated in mid-air, reading: "_Happy 8th Birthday, Harry!_"

"Well, I had expected all the practising while you shower would have improved it," Harry grinned cheekily. "Which reminds me; could you please put a silencing charm on the bathroom?"

"Monster," Sirius mock-growled. He reached under the table and pulled out a long, thin package in bright wrapping paper, which he handed over to Harry with theatrical reluctance. "I'm half-tempted to return it to the store."

Harry's stomach fluttered with excitement as he received the present. He had a sneaking suspicion of what was inside, and the expectation was almost unbearable. Carefully, he began tearing off the wrapping paper, pausing only to adjust his new spectacles which he wasn't yet used to. Although he had inherited his mother's eye colour, he had also unfortunately inherited his father's poor eyesight.

His heart started hammering when he exposed the shaft of rich mahogany, and when the last of the wrapping paper was gone, he felt like soaring all by himself. In his lap lay a brand new Cleansweep 7s.

"Oh, thank you, Sirius!" Harry exclaimed and jumped out of the armchair to hug him. "Can I try it right away? Can I?"

Sirius chuckled. "Don't you want to eat your birthday cake, first?" he asked, gesturing to the cake on the table.

"Well, I suppose the broom isn't going anywhere..." Harry hesitated.

"Exactly."

"But neither does the cake!" he declared and sprinted out of the room and out of the cottage.

_I must stop asking stupid questions,_ Sirius thought with a grin and followed him out into the glaring sun.

He wasn't afraid that they'd be seen; the Fidelius Charm extended for several hundred yards in all directions, which was why Padfoot's Den looked markedly better from the outside these days. Harry had already mounted the broom, and Sirius discovered somewhat to his surprise that the boy's grip was correct.

"Just slide a little further back. That's it. To lift off, pull the end toward you carefully while kicking off. Don't go too high the first time, just a few-"

Harry yanked at the broom and took off with a _whoosh_, reaching fifteen-twenty meters in a few seconds.

"...never mind," Sirius finished and brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

Harry seemed to hover in hesitation for a few seconds, and Sirius expected him to come back down to ask him how to manoeuver. Suddenly, however, the boy lay himself flat against the broom handle and shot though the air like an arrow, before making a sharp U-turn and coming back to his starting point.

_He's a natural!_ Sirius thought in amazement. _Just like James!_

Harry proceeded to perform a few more manoeuvres, starting with a huge loop before going into a steep dive. The bottom of Sirius' stomach fell out as he saw the rate Harry was picking up speed, without showing any sign of wanting to pull up. At the last moment Harry straightened out, rushing past the ground in knee-height before soaring back into the sky.

"Monster," Sirius growled again with a wide smile, once he allowed himself to breathe again.

The eight-year old did an inside-out U-turn that left Sirius wondering how he was able to stay on his broom, before coming back toward him. Harry made a half-barrel roll, so that he was hanging from his new broom upside-down.

"WOOOHOOO!" he shouted in glee as he shot past Sirius.

Sirius shook his head in wonder. And he had been expecting to have to _teach_ Harry how to fly a broom?

After about twenty minutes (in which Sirius had a heart-attack at least twice), Sirius called his godson down using the Sonorus Charm.

"Sirius, that was amazing!" Harry exclaimed excitedly. His bright green eyes glittered with a light Sirius had rarely seen. "I never knew flying could be like that!"

"Amazing for you it may have been, but some of those manoeuvres weren't easy on my nerves," Sirius said as they walked back toward the cottage.

Harry snorted. "Padfoot's getting old," he teased.

"Mr Padfoot takes great offence at Mr Emeralds' insinuations and warn that of the dire consequences that may follow," Sirius said grinning, using the nickname he was fully aware the boy detested.

"Stop that!" Harry said and shuddered. "'Emeralds' sounds like a name for a girl, with or without 'Mr' in front."

"Alright, alright," Sirius said, running a hand through the boy's black hair. "How about 'Raven', then? Is 'Raven' fine?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I think I like that."

III

A few minutes later they were both sitting in the sofa with each their slice of cake. Harry ate quickly; he could not wait getting back on the broom again. He had already decided to practise every day, hoping that he'd become good enough to be accepted on the Quidditch team once he entered Hogwarts.

"Harry," Sirius suddenly said and put down his plate. "I have something more for you."

Harry looked up in surprise. Sirius sounded so... solemn.

His godfather walked up the stairs to the second floor, and came back a few moments later with an oblong wooden box that was only a few inches thick. He sat down beside Harry and handed him the box. The dark wood was polished so it gleamed.

"I kept them as a memory of your parents," Sirius explained. "But they are actually yours by right."

Harry opened the box carefully. The insides were covered in purple velvet, and two depressions in the wood contained each a wand.

"Are these...?"

"Your parents' wands," Sirius confirmed. "Their cottage burned down, but the magic in the wands preserved them."

Harry carefully picked up one of the wands, as carefully as if it was made of porcelain of the most fragile sort.

"That's your father's," Sirius said. "Mahogany, eleven inches. Your mother's wand is made from willow and is ten and a quarter inches."

Harry studied the wand while strange sensations ran through him, with a sense of loss at the forefront. Sirius didn't like to talk about the deaths of Harry's parents. He glanced up at his godfather and saw that he was frowning at something only he could see. Sirius was brooding again, just like he always did when the subject of Harry's parents came up. In an effort to change the subject, Harry asked a question he had been meaning to ask for some time:

"Sirius, could you please teach me magic?"

Sirius blinked. "Magic? But you'll learn plenty of magic at Hogwarts. There's no need to rush."

"No, but learning just a _little_ would be very useful," Harry said, thinking on all the almost-disasters they had suffered. "Like shield charms and such."

Sirius rubbed his chin. "I don't know, Harry. There are rules against that sort of thing."

Harry snorted. "And rules have stopped you since when?"

Sirius grinned. "Alright, just let me think about it a while before I make up my mind."

Harry happily returned his father's wand to the box and closed it. He knew that tone of voice; old Padfoot had already decided, and just wouldn't admit it yet.

His own broomstick _and_ learning magic - this had turned out to be the best birthday ever!

III

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the paintings of former Headmasters and Headmistresses in the Headmaster's office were silent. Only the soft ticking from the silver devices standing on an elegant table of polished wood could be heard. That, and the occasional rustling of feathers as Fawkes shifted on his perch, keeping an eye on his person who sat behind his desk and stared at nothing.

Albus Dumbledore was brooding again, something he had done a lot of in recent years.

He had called off the search for Sirius and Harry, finally acknowledging, as the Ministry had, that they would never be found. Most of the wizarding world believed that Harry had been twisted to the Dark Arts by now. It had become one of the great tragedies; the orphan who defeated Voldemort only to be kidnapped and abused until he fell to the Dark.

There was one thing that gave Albus hope, however.

The ancient wizard opened a drawer in his massive desk and took out a worn-looking parchment. It was a letter that had originally been addressed to Remus Lupin, but he had allowed Albus to copy it.

_Dear Remus,_

_I'm writing this letter to explain what happened 31st October 1981. It is my hope that you'll read this letter through and consider my words as carefully as you can, rather than just toss it into the fireplace as I might have done myself..._

Albus put the letter down and rose from his armchair to pace around in the office. He already knew the contents by heart, having spent three years investigating the story from every possible angle. It made sense to switch Secret-Keeper; Sirius _was_ a very obvious - and thus poor - choice. Theoretically, Peter Pettigrew could also have framed Sirius as described in the letter, and Remus had shamefacedly confirmed that Peter's Animagus form was indeed a rat. Albus smiled briefly at the thought.

_I wonder how three students managed to become Animagi without me knowing?_

In any case, Sirius' later actions would then be that of a concerned godfather, rather than an insane Death Eater. It certainly explained how he got past the wards protecting Privet Drive! After that, it seemed as if events had conspired to maintain status quo.

Albus stopped by the window to stare out at the Hogwarts grounds as his thoughts came full circle yet again. The problem - the big problem - was that Sirius had exactly zero evidence to back up his story. Still, both he and Remus felt inclined to believe it.

He sighed as he turned his back to the window and walked back to his desk. If only he could have met Sirius and talked with him, Albus was sure he could have figured out the truth - there simply hadn't been time during that disastrous confrontation outside Gringotts. A brief vision of Harry being hit by his stunner and flying backwards flashed through his mind. He banished the thought instantly. Harry was strong; he would be all right. He _would_ be.

Their problem was that there was very difficult to contact Sirius without the Ministry finding out. They'd even tried to put a small, innocent-sounding ad in the _Daily Prophet_:

**Padfoot:**

_Moony and the old fool believe you. Please contact us as soon as you can._

However, that was of no use if Sirius didn't read the _Daily Prophet_ regularly, wherever he was. Thus, the only thing Albus Dumbledore could do was to wait…

III

**9th September**

Harry kept an eye on the various people who wandered past in ones, twos and threes, as he drank up the last of his soda. He and Sirius often went out to cafés such as this one in Penzance. Sirius said that he needed to get out more and be around other people. Harry didn't mind. It sometimes got rather boring in Padfoot's Den, even now that Sirius was teaching him magic.

He had never thought it would be so difficult to cast such simple spells. It had taken him over a week before he managed to levitate a stupid _pebble!_ Other deceptively easy tasks, such as lighting up a darkened room or using 'Finite Incantatum' was even worse.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," Sirius had said severely. "Remember that on Hogwarts they spend a week practicing wand-movements and studying the theory, first. "You on the other hand, have only received a few days of quick tutoring."

But Harry still thought he was incredibly slow in learning the spells. He sometimes wondered what the teachers would say when he arrived at Hogwarts, knowing so little and learning so slowly.

"Ready to go?" Sirius had put down the Muggle newspaper he'd been reading and was looking at Harry questioningly. His (for the time being) long blonde hair had been tied back into a ponytail.

Harry nodded and rose. "Can we stop by the library, first? There's something I want to check out."

"Sure."

With the nice weather outside there were few visitors to the public library. Harry saw only two people standing by the checkout counterand apparently waiting impatiently for someone; a tall man with sparkling blue eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles, and a smaller woman with long, bushy hair.

"I can't believe she wanted to go to the _library_ on a beautiful day like this," the man said and tapped his foot irritably.

"Honesty, you should know your own daughter by now," the woman said with amusement. "Besides, she inherited her love for books from you, so stop complaining."

The man sighed. "I suppose I can't deny that."

"I'll be right back," Harry said to Sirius and disappeared amid the shelves, heading straight for the sports section. He skimmed the titles for a while, occasionally picking up a book and paging through the contents, before replacing it. Ten minutes later, he had searched through the entire section and stood frowning at the single book he had found. Just one. Oh, well.

He turned to head for the checkout counter, still reading the back cover, and unexpectedly bumped into an unseen obstacle. Harry stumbled back from the collision. However, the 'obstacle' wasn't so lucky, and landed on her backside. The books the girl had been carrying spilled out over the floor.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, and bent down to help gather up her books. "Are you all right?"

Somewhat dazed from the collision, the girl got back on her feet and brushed a lock of long, bushy hair out of her face. "It's okay. I didn't watch where I was going."

Harry handed her the books; six thick volumes about Penzance in all. "Do you need help carrying that?" he offered.

"No, I'll be fine," she said and flashed him a smile. "Thanks."

Harry shook his head and followed her to the checkout counter.

"Hermione, where have you been?" the man Harry had noticed earlier said. "We've been waiting."

"I'm sorry, Dad," the girl – Hermione – said. "I found some really interesting books about the history of Penzance."

Harry found Sirius a few minutes later, standing in a corner and looking through a Muggle astronomy-book, occasionally chortling to himself.

"I'm ready to go now," Harry said.

Sirius replaced the book on the shelf. "What kind of book did you borrow?"

Harry held it up: "_An Introduction to Tae Kwon Do._"

Sirius' eyebrows rose and he took the book to page through it. "Why have you suddenly become interested in this?"

"Um, I've seen you practise in the evenings," Harry admitted. "It looked like fun."

"Well, self-defence is one of those things you can't learn from books alone," Sirius explained. "You'll need an instructor."

Harry looked disappointed for a second, then brightened. "Can you teach me?"

Sirius hesitated. "Well, I did learn Muggle combat at the Auror Academy – not Tae Kwon Do, but a martial art called 'Twister' that was created especially for Aurors – so I suppose I could."

"Pleeease?" Harry said with his best puppy dog look.

"All right, all right," Sirius chuckled and ruffled Harry's hair. "It can't hurt."

III


	9. Ponderings

**Chapter 9: Ponderings**

**25th April 1990**

Beside a two-story cottage, covered by the Fidelius Charm, two opponents squared off. One was a grown man with short, black hair and grey eyes. The other was nine years old, with brilliant green eyes, messy black hair and a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead.

"Ready when you are, Harry," Sirius called, showing no emotion and holding his wand in a loose grip.

By contrast, Harry's posture was like a coiled spring, ready to dodge in any direction. In his right hand, he clenched his mother's wand. Sirius had been a bit surprised by that, having assumed that his father's wand would have been a better match.

Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration at Sirius' challenge. _This time,_ he thought. _This time I'll beat him._

Without warning, Harry's arm came up in a blur. "Stupefy!"

"Protego," Sirius said instantly, stopping the bolt of red light. "Expelliarmus."

Harry dodged to the left to avoid the disarming charm. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Again, Sirius shielded against the hex with no apparent effort. "Rictusempra."

"Protego!" Harry countered, attempting to reflect the jinx back at Sirius but failing. "Tarantallegra!"

Sirius merely took a step to the right, and the hex went whistling over his shoulder. They traded hexes and jinxes for several minutes, and Harry grew steadily more frustrated at his inability to get past Sirius' defences.

"_Keep calm and focus,"_ Harry reminded himself. One thing he had noticed from earlier mock-duels with Sirius was that his godfather had a tendency to dodge to his right. Sirius was after all right-handed and thus the direction he would instinctively move to.

"Incarcerous! Tarantallegra!" he suddenly snapped and without waiting for his godfather's reaction, aimed a few feet to his left and said: "Densaugeo."

As Harry had hoped, Sirius leaped to his right rather than attempt to block both spells, which put himself right in the path of Harry's third hex. Unfortunately, rather than hitting Sirius, it slammed into an invisible magical barrier he had obviously erected earlier without Harry noticing. Sirius grinned as if to say: "Nice try!"

"Impedimenta! Stupefy!" he barked.

Harry leaped out of the way, tucked, rolled and came back up on his feet. "Stupefy!"

"Rictusempra!" Sirius snapped and quickly went down in a crouch, letting Harry's stunner zoom past overhead. Harry, however, couldn't block the jinx in time and had no shield to protect himself with. He collapsed on the ground, laughing uncontrollably as thousands of invisible fingers tickled his sides and armpits.

"Aagh… Sirius… Take it off!" he shouted between laughs.

With a cockygrin, Sirius slowly sauntered over to where Harry was lying on the ground, twisting and turning like an insane eel. "Padfoot wins!" he said in a sing-song voice. "Padfoot always wins!"

"Not funny… Take it off!" Harry gasped.

Sirius sighed. "No sense of humour at all. Finite Incantatem."

Finally the merciless attack ceased, and Harry stopped wiggling.

"You did a nice job at predicting my movements," Sirius allowed. "But don't rely too much on that, or it can be used against you. Also beware of your own weaknesses, such as your current lack of knowledge about advanced shield charms. By the way, where did you learn about 'Densaugeo?' I can't remember having taught you that particular curse."

Harry propped himself up on his elbows. "Found it in one of your books. Thought I might be able to surprise you with it."

Sirius sniffed in distain. "Such a simple curse surprise me? Hardly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Padfoot, humility is not one of your virtues."

"Funny. That's what your father used to say, too."

III

Sirius regarded his godson as he got up and dusted himself off. The mention of Harry's father seemed to have triggered something in the boy's young mind, because he had that thoughtful expression he always got right before he asked a question important to him.

"Why did Voldemort want to kill my parents, Sirius?"

Sirius hesitated. "Well, they were heavily involved with the Order of the Phoenix, you know," he said and pocketed his wand. "And they had already escaped his clutches thrice, so you can imagine they were something of a thorn in his side."

_Should I tell him about the prophecy? Should I?_

"But why me?" Harry asked and subconsciously raised a hand to rub his scar. "It doesn't make any sense – I wasn't any threat to him."

"You must understand, Harry, that Death Eaters _enjoy_ murdering and inflicting pain," Sirius heard himself say. "And Voldemort enjoyed it more than most."

Sirius felt dreadfully guilty over not telling Harry the whole truth. He had always been honest with his godson, but he simply couldn't bring himself to place that immense burden on Harry's shoulders just yet. The boy was only nine, for Merlin's sake! He had the _right_ to a proper childhood. Besides, Voldemort was gone for now, so there wasn't any rush.

Thus rationalized, Sirius forced a grin and said: "How about a game of Quidditch?"

Harry readily agreed, and a quick round of Rock, Paper and Scissors decided that Sirius would be Keeper first. Being only two, they had developed their own brand of Quidditch where they'd take turns being Keeper for five minutes, while the other would play Chaser. A pair of charmed apples substituted for Bludgers.

Sirius flew into position in front of the goal post – a tall tree with the top third split into a Y-shape. Harry started far out like he always did and came speeding toward him, jinking left and right. Sirius followed his every moment with intent eyes. The boy had an uncanny talent for flying, a talent which was reinforced by the fastest reflexes he had ever seen in a human being.

Harry jinked and banked as he came closer, throwing in sudden and unexpected manoeuvres to confuse Sirius. He dodged a flying apple and suddenly banked hard to left. Sirius automatically followed to his right, only to abruptly have Harry twist in the opposite direction and throw the Quaffle.

Sirius cursed and threw himself to his left in a desperate attempt to catch it, but his arm was a couple inches too short and the Quaffle breezed through the goal.

"Ten points to me! Ten points to me!" Harry shouted tauntingly as he made a victory pass around the goal post, the wind ruffling his hair.

After five minutes Harry had scored an additional four times, and it was now Sirius' turn to be Chaser. Being a Keeper didn't fully take advantage of Harry's talents and although his reflexes served him well, Sirius ended up scoring three times. Forty minutes later Harry had earned 140 points compared to Sirius' 110 and the match was over, complete with sore losers ("I'm not any good at being Keeper!").

Sirius regarded his godson fondly as the boy put away their brooms. He thought he'd done of a good job of raising Harry, considering their situation. Back when Harry was a baby, it had been a big step for Sirius to go from careless bachelor to responsible surrogate parent.

Responsible! Nine years ago, a responsible Sirius Black would have seemed like an oxymoron. However, he had been forced to _become_ responsible quickly, for Harry's sake. Perhaps the years with his godson had been good for him.

He liked to think so.

Sirius followed Harry inside their cottage and to the living room. Harry picked out one of his favourite books from a shelf (_The Dark Arts Outsmarted_) and sat down in the sofa. He seemed to have developed a fascination with everything that had to do with self-defence, both physical and magical. Sirius remained standing, however, frowning in thought.

Since he had sent that letter to Remus, he hadn't tried to contact him or Dumbledore. It was stupid, perhaps, but Harry meant everything to him. He couldn't risk being captured and have his godson sent to an orphanage or, worse, back to those horrid relatives of his. James and Lily had trusted him to take care of Harry in the event of their death, and he was by God going to do that!

However, in a few years Harry was due to enter Hogwarts. There had never been any question whether he would. Not only would James and Lily have wanted that, but it was also Harry's right. The big problem was that Sirius might be sending Harry away forever. While Dumbledore and Remus might believe his innocence without evidence, the Ministry wouldn't. So how to get Harry back, once the school year ended?

The only solution he could see was the crazy plan he had come up with yesterday, but that would require them to begin preparing right away...

III

Harry gave his godfather a covert look over the edge of the book he was pretending to read. Sirius was brooding again, something he had lately done far too often in Harry's opinion. Naturally, he considered it his duty to give Padfoot something else to think about. And he knew just the way.

With a slight smile, he slowly put the book down at the table and pulled his wand from his pocket. Sirius didn't notice, standing there with his hands in his pockets and frowning at the floor. Harry's smile turned into an evil grin as he gestured with his wand and whispered an incantation.

_Fwop!_

"MERLIN'S HAIRY BALLS!"

Harry dissolved into laughter as he saw the effects of the charm. Sirius' black hair had abruptly been transformed into angelic-looking golden curls, which now reached well past his shoulders. Sirius had grabbed one of the long locks and was holding it up in front of his face, staring at it in shock. Now he rounded on Harry.

"I didn't teach you that hex so you could use it on _me!_" he said, trying to look hurt and failing miserably.

"Optimist!" Harry managed go gasp out.

The corners of Sirius' mouth quirked as he drew his own wand. "Have it your way, then."

_Fwop!_

Harry sat bolt upright in the sofa and brought his hands to his hair. "You didn't-" he began.

"You know the rules," Sirius smirked. "You can play pranks, but if you do, it's pink hair for a day."

"Not _pink!_" Harry moaned and held out a strand of hair to examine it. Sure enough, it had turned a particularly violent shade of pink. Quick as thought he snatched his wand where it had fallen on the floor and snapped an incantation.

_Fwop!_

"CIRCE'S BUTT!" Sirius stared in horror at his robes, which Harry had just transfigured into a pink, flowery nightgown. "_This means war!_" he bellowed, and with that the hexes started flying.

III

The tranquillity of the Headmaster's office on Hogwarts was suddenly disturbed by a knock on the door. Fawkes shifted on his perch and Albus put his quill down. He had a fair idea of who it was.

"Come in."

The door opened to admit Remus Lupin. As always, the werewolf looked worn and aged beyond his years. Albus noted that his robes had gotten quite a few patches since he had last seen him.

"Good day, Remus," Albus smiled and rose to greet his former pupil. "Please sit. Can I get you any refreshments?"

"No thank you, Headmaster," Remus said and sat down in one of the chairs intended for guests. "I just wanted a word with you."

Albus sat back down and folded his hands in a pyramid in front of him. He didn't require Legilimency to know what Remus wanted to talk about.

"In a little more than a year, Harry is supposed to attend Hogwarts," Remus began.

Albus nodded serenely. "And I have no doubt that he will."

The werewolf hesitated. "But what will happen once he gets here? How will the Ministry react? Won't they try to- to seize him?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Albus said and gave the younger man a reassuring smile. "I like to think that I've grown quite familiar with Hogwarts' rules over the years, and I _am_ Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The Ministry has no legal basis to do anything at all to Harry."

"But-"

Albus held up a hand to stop him. "Remember that not only is Harry a minor but he has also never actually broken a law, hence they can't arrest him. Moreover, once registered as a future student – which Harry was more than nine years ago – the Ministry is powerless to stop him from entering Hogwarts."

"But what if they revoke Sirius' guardianship?" Remus argued. "Then he'd be a ward of the Ministry."

"They could do that," Albus agreed. "But guardianships can only be revoked if the legal guardian is a criminal or if he or she would make an unfitting parent. In both cases the Ministry would have to prove it, which they have yet to do. They've never given Sirius a trial, you know. I assure you, Remus; Harry will be quite safe here at Hogwarts, both from the Ministry and surviving Death Eaters."

"Okay, but what about after he finishes his first year here?" Remus asked. "Where is he going to go? Back to Sirius? The Ministry will never allow that."

"That may be, but they can't restrain him or order him not to leave. They _can_ attempt to track him back to Sirius, however, and therein lays the problem I'm afraid I don't have a solution for at the moment."

Remus nodded resignedly. "There has to be something we can do," he muttered. "Wish I could talk to Sirius."

"Oh, don't worry too much," Albus said soothingly. "I doubt Sirius will send him away without having thought about this. When Harry arrives here, I'll have a word with him. Besides, I'm sure two brilliant minds such as mine and yours can come up with something, given a couple years to think about it."

Albus smiled contently to himself and looked out the window at the sunshine outside. He had a strong feeling that an age was slowly coming to an end, and that another was about to begin.

The age of Harry Potter.

THE END

(of this story)

**Author's Notes:** Wohoo! I've reached the end! This last chapter turned out to be shorter than I had expected, but oh well. Hope you're not disappointed over not getting to see Harry go to Hogwarts in this story; that will happen in the sequel. So keep an eye out for _Beyond the Darkness: The Philosopher's Stone_. I'll begin posting chapters as soon as I figure out the chapter-outline.

A big thanks to the Phoenix King who beta-read and improved this entire story.


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